


Like Rabbits

by ballvvasher



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Class Differences, Drag Queens, Drama, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Panic, M/M, Marvel Cameos, Sex Work, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballvvasher/pseuds/ballvvasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grad-student Sebastian Stan has a dirty little secret. Congressional candidate Chris Evans has a dirty little obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and Warnings: Brief Emily Vancamp/Chris Evans, Brief Sebastian Stan/OMC. Warning for brief internalized homophobia, homophobic (and possibly transphobic) language. Some of Chris's internal monologue can be considered transphobic. Cameos from Emily VanCamp, Scarlett Johansson, Anthony Mackie, Lisa Evans, Scott Evans, Elizabeth Olsen, Robert Downey Jr., and Chace Crawford. Several OCs. 
> 
> Sabrina (Sebastian’s drag ego) is referred to as her/she. I have a very basic understanding of elections and Congress so if you know more than me you can gladly point out the issues with whatever you see, and I’ll try fix them! But I tried my best to make sense of this using my knowledge from Government classes and from a handful of .gov sites.

 

 

 

 

 

Christopher Robert Evans has multiple degrees from the one of the finest institutions in the free world, a guaranteed advancement in his political career just around the corner, the inheritance of an affluent family estate, and a girlfriend who’s as committed to her career as he is. He’s a man of class, philanthropies, and education, but somehow he’s found it in himself to agree on going strip club for his good friend Scarlett’s impromptu bachelorette party on a Thursday night.

“It’s not a strip club,” Scarlett groans. “It’s a… erotic… dancing and private performance club. A very alternative and artistic scene. You’ll appreciate it.”

“Sounds like a strip club to me,” he mutters, synchronizing their stride from the parking garage to the club’s entrance. Scarlett’s half-sister Leyla and longtime friend Amelia from their graduating class at Brown have also been invited to the get-together.

The lively, lavish décor is well worth the twenty dollar entry fee. Oh, and the dozen or so half-naked, shapely women communing with the patrons of the club are certainly more eye-catching than the various wall adornments and professional lighting displays they pass. And as comfortable with his masculinity as Chris is, he could admit the well-built, shirtless men aren’t so sore on his eyes either.

Scarlett leads her three guests to a table bordered by the edge of the main stage. Within seconds, they’re approached by a waitress with short, curled pink hair. “First round’s on the house. What’ll you all be having?”

Chris perks up at the notion of free alcohol. “Does beer sound good to you ladies?”

Leyla and Amelia agree enthusiastically, but with a small wave of the hand, Scarlett declines. “Just some coke for me, please,” and her small smile has meaning behind it that Chris doesn’t catch.

“And we’ll still have the beer, thank you,” Chris pipes up.

“Of course,” the rosy-haired woman hums.

The waitress tallies the order and doesn’t leave before dishing a wink at Chris, causing Leyla to coo. “Haven’t lost your game yet, mister President?”

“Aw, we all know that’s just for the tips,” he chuckles. “And it’s—hopefully—‘mister Congressman’ come 2017.”

Chris’s well-planned career in civil-servitude is really starting to take off. Although he hasn’t got incumbency advantage, the people he means to represent have always had faith in the fellow Bostonian community leader, more so than any other candidate foreseen to run against him in the next few years. Modern politicians tend to reign from behind their cozy desks and offices, but Chris has always been a very hands-on type of leader. From charity work to social work to yard work, the masses of Massachusetts have ample reasons to idolize him.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyone who keeps up with the news knows you as Boston’s golden boy,” Amelia interjects, “but I’m sure you hear enough about your heroism from Emily. That girl of yours is so supportive. I’m almost jealous.”

“Em’s pretty great, I’ll admit it.” He isn’t lying, because Emily is incredible, but he’d rather keep the conversation away from his own relationship.  He changes the subject, regarding Scarlett. “How’s Romain been? Last I heard he was more stressed about your big day than the bride.”

Scarlett barks a laugh. “He’s under a lot of pressure ensuring his family can make it overseas, all within our budget, but I think we’ve got everything under control. For now.” Another secretive smile graces her lips, and Chris jumps a little when Amelia screeches.

“Oh my god, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?!”

Leyla and Chris’s eyes widen is disbelief, prodding a very happy Scarlett with their looks of shock.

“I found out about three weeks ago.”

Leyla yells and throws her arms around her sister. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Scarlett, that’s wonderful.” Chris is beaming. He knows how badly Scarlett has always wanted a family and it’s just the perfect time to start one.

“Oh, I love you guys.” Scarlett embraces all of her friends just as the waitress returns with their drinks. “Let’s say we relax and watch some sexy dancers tonight, hm? I think I can still have fun without the booze.”

Leyla’s sympathetic groan is drowned out by the sudden boom of the stage’s speakers. The show is about to begin.

 

\--

 

Foundation, concealer, primer, bronzer. Skin now evenly toned and without flaw, Sebastian thumbs open his shadow pallet and applies brown and plum color on his lids, gracing gold to highlight around his brows and a white-gold to accent the inner corners of his eyes.  He pencils in his eyebrows, accentuating their natural curves. Heavy liquid eyeliner turns his already vibrant eyes piercing, and dark, false lashes are adhered to the tops and bottoms of his lined lids. For his lips, he sides with a very expensive tube of deep rose matte lipstick, and finishes his guise with a bit of blush.

“Your show time’s pushed back to nine-fifteen, doll.”

He hears his manager from the cramped dressing room doorway but makes no move to stop evening the color over his cheeks. “Huh? Oh, right. I know that, Cherry.”

“It’s eight thirty,” the short woman groans, raising a brow.

Sebastian pats his bald-capped hair with his free hand and releases a small sigh. “I know, Cherry. You know I need to take a while to get into character.” He’s already got on most of his costume—hairless thighs to toes coated in white seamless stockings, simple white rounded heels, an elegantly studded corset, and matching little satin panties. But he plans on snapping on some dangly earrings and pasting body gems to the corners of his eyes. So, yeah, he needs a few extra minutes.

“This room is reserved for the dancers who are already dancing or are up _next_ ,” admonishes his manager, just as a sweaty, grinning dancer struts into the room to touch up her own makeup. She tries to grab his tin of eye shadow –without _asking_ , so he snatches it and glares daggers before she can get her paws on it. Sebastian chooses to ignore both the other dancer’s and Cherry’s gripes and opens his capsule of body glitter.

“I _am_ up next. Eventually,” Sebastian mutters, dusting the glitter over his exposed collarbones.

Both his manager and the bitchy dancer leave him in peace and Sebastian lets out a deep breath, dabbing his forehead a little as if the action could relieve stress on its own. It was risky enough on his sanity to schedule a prestigious job interview bright and early tomorrow, so he doesn’t need his nerves to get the best of him tonight. Warming at the sight of his prettied face in the mirror, he adjusts the strap holding back his genitals within the confines of his delicate lingerie.

There isn’t anything to be concerned about because Sebastian, or rather, _Sabrina_ , is notorious for his ability to put on a good show.

Outside, Chris joins the thunderous applause for the last act starring a cheeky blonde somersaulting like a circus performer. Scarlett was right. Most of the performances have had some sort of artistic and tasteful value.

The emcee announces the next performer with a promise that her act is well worth the wait. “There won’t be a dry… _eye_ in the house!” Chris laughs heartily along with the crowd.  Comfortably buzzed on two and a half beers, he finds her cheesy jokes hilarious. “Give it up for _Sabrina!”_

Immediately, the stage is bathed in a cool blue light, and Sabrina takes center stage with several resounding rhythmic clacks of her heels. She moves further down the catwalk and Chris is latched on to the view of the tall, curvaceous dancer with the long, auburn hair. The music begins—easily recognized as Sia’s _Chandelier_ —and Sabrina moves deftly, dropping low and swiveling her hips, strength emanating from her core and comely thighs. Chris’s gaze rakes over her musculature beneath white stockings and garter-belts. She’s a little more built compared to the other female dancers but Chris finds that it works on her. She certainly knows how to put it into use.

She reveals the true ability of her form when she reaches the far end of the stage where the pole awaits. Turning away, she sheds her white-gold fur coat with a flourish and mounts the upper half of the pole with impeccable grace and strength. She spins infinitely without ever gracing a landing. Dumbstruck, he takes in Sabrina’s broad shoulders, flat chest, illusive curves caused by the white silk corset, and he concludes that Sabrina’s not—entirely—female. Before he can stop himself, he turns to give Scarlett a desperate look. She just laughs and pats him roughly on the back.

“Quite the looker, isn’t she!” Scarlett cackles as Sabrina performs an artful flip about the pole and the crowd goes wild.

Chris is speechless, his jaw hitting the floor when Sabrina does the same, getting on all fours to elegantly roll her—his?—ass backwards into the pole. She tosses her head back, mouth gaping into a flirty smile. Chris’s stomach vaults and the crowd roars unanimously.

The second chorus swells and Sabrina hops on the upper level of the pole again. Chris feels ridiculous ogling Sabrina, eyes absorbing every movement, but doesn’t consider flipping his lid that this guy in women’s underwear is one of the hottest people he’s ever seen. Because whoever she is, Chris finds her undeniably beautiful.

She twists on the pole so that her only method of suspension is her stockinged leg. Sabrina arches to set her other foot on the stage.

_Oh shit!_ is all Chris processes as Sabrina twists her ankle, loses her expert grip on the pole, and topples over the edge.

Chris’s body reacts. He leaps out of his seat, knocks aside the table, and miraculously catches Sabrina in his arms. They land together crumpled on the floor, safe and sound and shocked as hell. Chris is honestly very glad the dancer isn’t hurt, but he did not think this through at all. Now he’s got a sweaty, trembling, sexy stranger in his lap and all he can think to say is, “Um. You okay?”

Sabrina blinks her thick lashes several beats, trying to compose herself. The music has been cut off and a few members of security gather to extricate Chris from the dancer, but Sabrina gets things back under her control.

“It’s fine! He’s helping me! _Hey,_ I said—” Sabrina grabs Chris— pliable and dumb and eyes still glued to her worried face—from the security guard with a rough hand to his bicep. “I said it’s alright.”

The crowd bursts into applause, and Chris pales when he realizes he’s now the center of attention at the strip club.

Sabrina’s gaze darts about the large room around them and Chris, through his own semi drunk freak-out, can dissect the pure desperation in Sabrina’s blue eyes. “Wow!” she shouts, face schooling into astonishment. “How ‘bout a hand for my hero!” The crown complies enthusiastically, and a few _‘kiss him!_ ’s reach their ears.

Chris blushes furiously and Sabrina turns to him, smirking. “I guess I do owe you a _big_ thank you, stranger. Turn it back up, Dennis!” Sabrina kicks off her treacherous heels and— _oh my god_ —grabs Chris by the belt to lead him up the stage, and he doesn’t have a choice but to follow. The song fades back in and Sabrina gets to work.

Basically what’s happening to Chris now: he’s standing onstage with his hands plastered to his sides in front of dozens of people with a cross-dressing stripper grinding his or her ass into his crotch. The audience goes nuts when Sabrina grabs Chris’s hands around to anchor them to her inner thighs, and Chris, completely against his will, whimpers at the sensation. Sabrina lets out a deep, masculine chuckle, only making the blood rush to Chris’s dick faster.

She tips her lips to Chris’s ear. “Can you drop to your knees for me?”

Chris falls to his knees like lead. All thoughts of his heterosexuality and his girlfriend are the furthest from the forefront of his mind. Somewhere he hears Scarlett and the girls cheering wildly, but Sabrina is his entire world right now.

It takes everything in him to not get his hands on the silk-clad ass in his face, thin fabric occasionally snagging on his stubble. Sabrina turns to swing her thigh over one of Chris’s shoulders, bucking gently and massaging Chris’s scalp with one hand. Chris looks like a total idiot, flushed and immobile.

Sabrina shoves Chris playfully onto his ass to straddle his hips. The song is ending soon, Chris can tell somehow in his addled state, so he tries to soak up this perfect moment while he still can. Sabrina travels up his body, connects their matching blue gazes, grabs his hand and leans into his ear to whisper _, “Squeeze my hand if it’s okay for me to kiss you.”_

Chris’s first drunken thought is: _how is this happening?_ Then: _how is that even a question?_

But there’s that note of desperation, this time in Sabrina’s tone. It’s not because she’s terribly hot and bothered to kiss some random guy, Chris realizes, but her fellow dancers, her boss, and the entire club all bore witness to Sabrina’s humiliation. This little display—while undoubtedly sexy—is just that, a display. Nothing more than Sabrina’s effort to right her mistake.

After a few long seconds, Sabrina stills her gyrations over Chris. Finally he finds it in himself to squeeze Sabrina’s hand, and she moves in for the kill. Painted lips meet spit-slick ones with a spark, and this time Chris can’t stop his other hand from reaching to cradle her jaw. The audience erupts.

Sabrina rakes her fingers into Chris’s hair again, causing him to groan into the kiss and his eyes to shut on the close view of Sabrina’s made-up face. Chris is positive he feels some tongue so against his better judgment, boldly moves his own past Sabrina’s lips. The dancer above him shudders. And pulls back. Chris opens his eyes and the kiss of a lifetime is completely over.

Carding her long fingers through Chris’s hair one last time, Sabrina smiles softly at her partner’s awestruck, lipstick-smudged expression. “Thanks,” she whispers, a vow soft enough that only Chris can hear. Chris is speechless, high as a kite from that perfect kiss.

Sabrina stands, curtsies, and walks calmly to the exit backstage. The emcee comes back on with something purposeful and witty, but Chris is still sitting on his ass at the stage’s end, focused on the dignified sway of Sabrina’s retreating form.

After another round of applause, Chris slides gingerly off the stage. He eyes the two discarded white heels, on whole and one broken. The symbol of the night absorbs itself into Chris’s mind.

The celebration ends with another round of free alcohol, and Scarlett and the girls cackling and reminiscing the entire ordeal while the next act on the catwalk serves as ambience. Chris laughs along, teasing himself to play it off.

But on the inside, he’s screaming. He has got to see Sabrina again.

On the opposite end, poor Sebastian can barely hold back his tears as he makes it back to the dressing room when the implications of everything he’s done finally sink in. He broke his damn shoe and almost broke his leg along with it. In front of the _entire_ club. Cherry is so gonna fire him!

If it hadn’t have been for that hot confused guy catching him in time, he’d probably be strapped down in the back of an ambulance with a leg out of commission and thousands of dollars in medical bills up his ass. He really should go back out there and ask for his name or invite him for pizza somewhere for saving him a world of hurt, but Sebastian’s too exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

He settles with angrily peeling off his false lashes and tearing open his make-up remover wipes to cleanse Sabrina from his face along with any tears that began to spill.

As he carefully seals his wig in its case, his ears split at the bellow of his manager. “ _Doll!_ Are you okay?! Oh, Sebastian. Please tell me you’re okay!”

Sebastian blinks. “’m fine,” he mumbles, unfastening his hair cap.

“Oh, thank God,” Cherry hobbles over and bangs her small fist on the table causing Sebastian to jump. “Now explain to me what the hell that was!”

He ruffles the short waves of his real hair with a rough hand. “My heel snapped off while I was hooked on the pole, you know with that move I do with just my leg. It was a freak accident. Won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, it won’t. What if you fell on that man and he sued? Or worse, what if no one was there to catch you?”

“I got lucky so we don’t have to worry about it, okay?” Sebastian just wants to go home.

“Oh, Sebastian, darling,” Cherry closes the distance between them to grapple Sebastian’s head to her bosom. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Sebastian groans but makes no move to pull away. “Cherry, I’m really tired and—”

“Aye, forgive me.” She frees Sebastian with a huff and stalks over to the room’s exit.  “You know how I worry for you. And, you should give that man your number.”

Sebastian lets out a bitter laugh. “Cherry, stop it. He was drunk, and that act was a save to get people to stare at me for the _right_ reasons.”

Cherry’s face melts with sympathy. “Get lots of rest tonight, doll. You performed _beau_ tifully. Try not to beat yourself up about things. It’s important to keep your chin up, understand?”

“Sure thing,” he agrees, sounding anything but.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

Chris began his Friday with a mild hangover. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Anthony, how many applicants we got?”

_“There are…four that made it to the final interview, boss,”_ his campaign manager replies over his cell. _“All meeting at your office, starting at ten.”_

“Thanks. I’ll call you later with the news.”

“ _You got it, boss_.” Mackie hangs up and Chris rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose, praying for some aspirin to fall out of a crack in his office’s ceiling. Alas, his office’s ceiling is without flaw, and without sorcery, so he settles for a third cup of coffee.

Chris recollects everything he did at Scarlett’s little party. From the drinks, to the rescuing, and to the humping and the grinding. And the kiss from the beautiful stranger.

A very dude-like stranger. Isn’t he a little too old to experiment? He’s guilty for enjoying himself as much as he did, and his body starts to react at the memory.

This is beyond unsettling. He’s never been fixated with someone like this before, least of all an androgynous exotic dancer. And though it was just a kiss, a fun pinprick of a moment, remorse for how much he’d enjoyed it weighs heavily on his chest. Betraying Emily makes him bleed with dishonestly and shame.

Chris jumps back to reality when his printer ejects several documents of information on the potential hires. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell any longer on last night. Smiling at the first name on his list, he already knows how well the interview will go. With any luck, this interview will be the first and only.

Across the street, young Sebastian Stan brings his modest four-door to park at the meter. The graduate student’s mind is also far from the mishap at the club ten hours prior. It’ll no longer matter that Sebastian’s a part time exotic dancer, that he’s a gay son of an immigrant, or that he had a brief dabble in adult film making as an undergrad. With one last glimpse in his little pocket mirror—force of habit—Sebastian jogs up to the campaign office to finally take charge of his life.

There isn’t much of a waiting room in the Evans campaign office, so Sebastian finds a seat at an empty desk. A slight young woman walks by with two cups of coffee. The frown on her face makes Sebastian hope they’re both hers. “You lost?”

“Me? Oh! Not at all, hopefully. I was looking for Mr. Evans. I’m supposed to be meeting with him this morning. For an interview.”

“An interview?”

“My professor at UMass knows him professionally, put in a good word for me and all,” he grins.

“Mhm,” the woman grumbles. A door across the large common area swings open.

“Lizzie, are you drilling my future protégé?”

Whatever the girl says falls deaf to Sebastian’s ears. He pales, confident smile falling. Now eye to eye with the last person he’d expected to see this morning.

If the placard on the door is correct, Sebastian totally grinded on the employer and mentor of his dreams last night. Grinded on, humped, groped, and made out with in front of a hundred people. The same employer who’s also running for public office.

Sebastian just wants to fall through the floor.

“Chris Evans. Sebastian, right?” Mr. Evans extends a hand. There is nothing in his face that gives away any recognition on his part. Which makes sense, he was drunk, and Sebastian was Sabrina and everything last night happened so fast.

Floundering, Sebastian shakes his hand and forces his tongue to work. “I, uh, yes sir, Mr. Evans. That’s me.” There is no way this is happening, he thinks. The universe can’t be this cruel. This was supposed to be an opportunity of a lifetime—

“It’s Chris, please. We can take this in my office. Please excuse us, Lizzie.”

“It’s Elizabeth,” she mutters, deadpan.

Sebastian tucks his portfolio to his side as Chris leads him to one of the two designer armchairs in his office. He surprises Sebastian by taking the armchair next to his instead of the one at his desk.

While Sebastian’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening to him right now, Chris gets right to the interview. “I want you to tell me the most important quality of a good civil servant.”

Enough pressure can turn Sebastian into a question-to-answer converting machine. “Well, I believe an individual who can compromise with others without losing their own integrity is surely one of the most important characteristics of a good public servant.” Sebastian likes his bullshit answer.

Chris meets his eyes and grins. Sebastian can’t stop his chest from fluttering. “I like that bullshit answer.”

Sebastian, to his utter mortification, laughs disturbingly loud, then claps a hand over his mouth as if that could force the hideous noise back in from where it came. His tormentor chuckles and the moment is so cute that it’s disgusting.

Chris opens a folder from his desk. “Says here, you’re a graduate of Rutgers, came to the University of Massachusetts for your masters in…”

“Political science.”

“And your concentration at Rutgers?”

“It was a dual degree. Political science and dance.” Why, _why_ did he not leave that last part out?

Chris’s brow rises. “Dance?”

Unable to help his blush, Sebastian chuckles. “Yeah, well, let’s just say it’s a bit of a hobby.”

“That’s cool,” Chris smirks.

“Mhm,” he hums, unsure how to respond.

After a few more questions about Sebastian himself, his personal life explained in his lifetime of academia, his strengths in organization and his ability to pull thorough with his aspirations, and lastly what he takes the most pride in: his work, Chris is ready to elaborate on the duties of the position.

“What I’ll require from you isn’t overly complicated. I expect reliability, and of course, honesty. Don’t assume a thing about your status. I really wanna hear what you think about my goals for this campaign and beyond.”

“Of course, sir. I am fully prepared to devote myself completely. I’ll be entering the fall semester part-time in order to work underneath you…”

Sebastian trails off, eying the hand Chris is extending to—his cheek? He’s confused, flustered when Chris pinches something off his temple. The gesture echoes the one from their kiss last night.

That kiss.

“Huh. Got a piece of glitter or something in your sideburn.” Chris flicks the speck off his finger.

Sebastian’s clears his throat. He’s scarlet. “Thanks. It’s fine. I don’t know how that got there.”

Chris is sharp and senses his discomfort. “Oh, sorry. That was weird of me to just touch your face like that.”

Chuckling, Sebastian tugs at his shirt collar. This is, by far, the worst interview he has ever had. Including his infamous audition for his high school’s rendition of Grease where he tripped over his own leg trying to show his best moves to the drama teacher. It was probably the same leg that he almost broke last night. Why does his leg ruin his life? “I really have no idea how that got there.”

His best interview was the one he did for _BareBacked_ in his freshman year—ten minutes of him jerking himself off on camera. Which is really saying something because he cried in his dorm afterwards.

“Well, Sebastian,” Chris exhales, “I like you, I really do. Your resume, transcripts, and your letters of recommendation are more than sufficient. Plus, we have no conflicting favorite baseball teams,” he jokes, “So I’m gonna go ahead and offer you the position.” Sebastian doesn’t have time to feel happy because the man brings a rough palm to Sebastian’s shoulder. More hands. Great. This is probably a thing he does all the time, too, which is fantastic.

None the less, Sebastian is proud of himself. This is a really good position, nonsense aside. “Wow, thank you Mr. Evans!”

“Nuh-uh—”

“Chris! I mean, thank you Chris. You won’t be disappointed.” Sebastian goes in for a handshake, feeling a bit better as he initiates the contact. This is great news. This will not be a complete fucking disaster. Sebastian will certainly do his best to shadow this man, perform all necessary duties properly, even if that means giving up his dancing. “So do I start immediately?”

Chris laughs and it’s a nice sound. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got to cancel all my other interviews though.”

“Oh,” Sebastian falters. “Forgive me, but if you still had a few more interviews, why did you, um,”

“Why did I give you the position? I really do like you, Sebastian. And I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna do great things together.” Chris stood to march over toward his black polished desk, filing through some papers.  “And I know your professor well. Ryan told me he couldn’t think of someone better for the job,” he grinned, meeting Sebastian’s eyes. “Now, while I send this polite mass-email to all the other applicants, whom of which all knew my discretionary interviewing process, please call back these donors. Tell ‘em I got their messages, that you’re a staff member directly from my office and don’t say the words assistant or secretary or they’ll think I’m getting too bureaucratic —oh, and be extra polite to the ones with official seals on the letterheads—and make sure their lawyers have _my_ lawyers’ information, which is in this little binder under here…”

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “Alright Chris, just show me a phone I can use.” Chris points with an exuberant gesture at the phone on his desk, and Sebastian nods, face flushing. Again. “Do you mind if I ask—”

“Shoot,” Chris offers, stabbing away that email on his pristine MacBook.

“Well, you said you scheduled your interviews under your own, uh, discretion. And there wasn’t any with me, because…?”

“Like I said. I knew I would like you.”

 

\--

 

Sebastian’s first three weeks fly by in a flurry of phone calls and coffee runs. The excitement factor of his new job is starting to die down. He gets paid over seven hundred dollars a week out of his boss’s pocket, though, so he really can’t complain.

Cherry had even agreed to call him in only if she needed a replacement dancer for the night. He misses performing, for sure, but this job is incredibly lucrative and significantly less risqué, given the less-than optimal circumstances. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d kissed and groped his very hot and very drunk boss at this last show, this would be the perfect arrangement.

And Chris finds that he adores Sebastian as one of his assistants. Not that he’d ever use the word ‘assistant’ around him, but hiring the kid has been the best decision he’s made since deciding to hold off any engagement plans with Emily, his girlfriend of almost three years. Emily, who had gone from a full time lawyer to his part-time assistant at the beginning of his race, then into opting to return to focus on her career completely.

Chris is sitting at his desk in his home office, editing Sebastian’s forwarded itinerary he drafted for his next benefit, when his phone buzzes. It’s Em.

_Your dad called me again._

Chris snorts. – _Did he ask you if you’re pregnant yet?_

_Not this time. He wants to know how you’re doing._

Ignoring the obvious implications of his father going through his girlfriend for information about him, he replies with – _And?_

When Emily doesn’t text back—probably trapped in a meeting—Chris saves his changes and prints out the document, filing his hardcopy in his briefcase. He’s decided to take Sebastian with him to his tailor to get him a proper suit fitting and get brunch with Scarlett afterward.

It’s refreshing to spend time with someone like Sebastian. He’s different from most ambitious grad students he’s employed in the past, who were all total kiss-asses and had crippling insecurities not even Chris could tend to. Sebastian’s confident and easy to talk to, which is why he genuinely likes him at his side during leisure time. Drama free company is priceless these days.

It may be a little unprofessional that Chris is picking Sebastian up from his apartment, but its fewer cars to worry about finding a parking space for. Plus, carpooling is good for the environment. He cares about the environment. It’s in his platform.

Sebastian is in his bathroom combing some gel into his hair when he hears a rap at his front door. His pulse spikes and he jogs to let his boss in.

It’s beyond him how he managed to agree to Chris’s invitation. While the man is so forward and friendly, and while Sebastian undoubtedly enjoys his company, Sebastian fears some way, somehow his little ridiculous secret will spill. “Hey Chris!” He makes himself look so stupid sometimes. Most times.

“Good mornin’,” Chris drawls. He’d expected his boss to fly him a text to come down to his Cadillac for their shopping trip together, not pay him a house call. “Ready?”

“Yep! Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Um. What’s that thing?”

Sebastian nearly slams the door in his boss’s face, whipping his head around to see what Chris is gawking at. Knowing his luck, he probably left a giant dildo on the kitchen counter or something.

His eyes land on the fuzzy culprit. Oh, right. “Oh, that’s just Perry. He’s one of my rabbits.” Surely enough, Perry hops out of the living space where Sebastian let him stroll around to get some early morning exercise.

“Oh?” Chris’s thick brows are puzzled, though he sounds delighted.

Sebastian moves to pick his grey rabbit from the hardwood floor of his apartment, leaving Chris to stare from his doorway. “Yeah, I let him run around for a while, must’ve forgot about him. Oh, you can come in if you want. Of course. Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

Chris steps in, shutting the door gently behind him. “No, thank you. Got a thermos in the car,” he hesitates, “You said his name is Perry? Interesting name for a rabbit,” he grins.

“Heh, well, I adopted him with that name.” It’s probably not a good idea to admit he rescued him as a baby and named him after Katy Perry.

Chris follows him into his organized den. It’s an open floor plan—save for the bedroom— so he gets a view of a few intimate details of his friend’s life outside of work. He’s got a few decorative cactus plants lined on the window sill, shelves of books and magazines, framed posters of nameless pop singers, and even several racks of shoes. Half men’s and half women’s. Huh. He didn’t know Sebastian had a girlfriend. Whoever she is, she has really extravagant taste in heels. “Yeah, I really love animals and fell in love with these little guys a few years ago.” Oh, cute. Sebastian has two little rabbits in the large cage: that light grey one and another one that’s orange.

“Aww,” Chris coos. Sebastian flushes at the pleasant sound.

“You wanna hold one?” he offers. “Oh, wait, sorry. I’m holding us up.”

Chris paces closer, voice playful. “Are you kidding? Of course I’d love to hold your adorable rabbits.”

That’s how Sebastian ends up ogling Chris with his orange rabbit, Pumpkin, cradled by his scruffy cheek. It would be inappropriate for Sebastian to grab his tablet to capture this image so he can stare at it whenever he’s sad, so instead he just eases Pumpkin from Chris’s careful hands. Those same hands that Sebastian’s had long, dirty dreams about.

After Chris gets a chance to fondle Perry’s floppy ears, he chuckles. “Wow, thanks for that. I feel like I need to beat someone up to feel manly again.” God. Why does Chris have to be so charming and adorable, funny and dorky?

Sebastian finds himself sitting shotgun for the first time in Chris’s classic car, fixated on the light that Chris somehow captures and holds in his eyes every morning. His mentor fascinates him in this way. Full of energy, ambition—no wonder Sebastian has it hard for this guy. The fact that their first meeting was literally him falling like a damsel into Chris’s arms might also be another reason.

He’s forced to remind himself that they didn’t meet that night, not really. Sebastian shouldn’t be obsessing over Chris’s kindness to a stranger that could have easily been any other dancer.

But it wasn’t any other dancer. And Sebastian really shouldn’t have agreed to this outing.

Chris pulls up to a suit and coat shop and the owner knows him by name. The tailor fits Sebastian into a cool gray tux, following all the input from Chris. Sebastian blinks at his primped up, masculine reflection and is comforted by the coordination apparent in Chris’s choices.

“So, what do you think?”

“Oh, Chris. It’s great. I feel confident enough to speak face to face with all of your donors.”

Chris claps his hands together and chuckles deeply, and Sebastian’s chest flutters in response. “Perfect.” He isn’t exaggerating.

The tailor leaves to grab another few accessories leaving Chris to admire the view of his assistant donning expensive attire. The pride in Sebastian’s eye and the assertive set of his shoulders is something Chris would like to see more often.

The bill makes Sebastian’s heart skip a beat. Chris laughs, such a great sound, and charges it without blinking. Rich guys.

Sebastian and Chris pull up to a parking spot by a run-down deli while the sun is still high. A woman unfamiliar to Sebastian smirks at them from her booth, and as Sebastian gets closer, her face becomes more familiar.

“Good to see you, Scarlett,” Chris hums.

“You’re both looking sharp,” her voice all character. Sebastian wishes he could place her face. How embarrassing would it be if they met before and he had no recollection?

“And you’re glowing, as always. Sebastian, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, Sebastian, my right hand man.”

Sebastian grins, shaking Chris’s good friend’s hand. She smiles politely, but her eyes are calculating. Scarlett almost speaks, when Chris interrupts. “Oh, boy. Nature calls. Seb, order me the special, would ya?” Chris runs off towards the back, presumably the bathroom.

Scarlett smirks at Sebastian’s quick, instinctual affirmative.

“Where have I seen you before?” Scarlett’s question echoes Sebastian’s own thoughts. So they must have met.

“I dunno. I’ve been in and out of Chris’s office for several weeks now. Maybe we crossed paths.”

“Oh, no. I never step foot in that circus.”

“Well, you get used to it, that’s for sure.”  The waiter drops off a glass of water and takes Sebastian’s order: two specials.

“No…” Scarlett swears in disbelief, and Sebastian looks up from his glass to see her lime-shadowed eyes round and accusing. He waits for the dime to drop.

“You’re the dancer! From   _Angelo’s_ , the club downtown!”

Amazing. Just amazing. Sebastian recognizes her now, a face among a sea of hollering patrons. And because he almost fell on her table that awful night.

“I—” God, what can he say?

“Sabrina. That’s you, right?” She sounds genuinely astonished.

Sebastian’s eyes flick over to the bathroom where Chris is probably finishing up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scarlett’s smile drops, reading the shame and discomfort on the boy’s face. He is a boy, really. Can’t be any older than twenty five. “Hey, I’m sorry,” unconvinced of his denial, “I didn’t know it was like that. Especially since—,”

“Look, he doesn’t know, alright?” he snaps. “I-I—” a breath, and he spills. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that was me. He didn’t recognize me from the club when I saw him for the interview the next morning and dammit, I had no idea the random drunk guy I made out with was my future _boss_.”

Scarlett regards him, silent and cool. Neither she nor Chris mentioned that night since the wedding. It was just a goofy memory. “Well, I did drag him there that evening. Maybe this,” she flicks a hand at Sebastian’s pout, “is all my fault.” She sips at her tea. “Secret’s safe with me, hon.”

He visibly deflates. “Thanks,” he mumbles, mouth tugging into a restrained smile.

They silently wait for Chris’s return, until, “I mean, you’re really talented. I’m sure Chris wouldn’t mind a VIP dance after hours on Capitol Hill,” she jeers.

“Oh my god.”

As if on cue, Chris meets the giggling pair at their table. “Don’t tell me I missed all the fun.”

“Oh, no,” Scarlett sasses. “Poor guy can’t wait to get rid of me.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photos of Perry and Pumpkin!


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emily: _Where are you?_

Chris: _Staying late at the office again. Don’t wait up! :)_

 

Chris swallows over a lump of nerve as he steps off the bus, tennis shoes squeaking on the wet stairs. He can’t believe he’s here. Again. Chris rounds the corner and his eyes land on the glistening brick of _Angelo’s_. This is the third time he’s found himself back here, pathetically attempting to catch a glimpse of Sabrina. He’s failed each time.

Somehow in his twisted brain he doesn’t consider that he’s stalking her.

Two hours and three drinks later, Sabrina is nowhere to be found. His eyes linger on the spot where he memorized how her discarded heels lay against the polished floor.

Maybe he’ll have better luck next week.

 

 

\--

 

 

The banquet the following month is vivacious. Brightly lit, gallantly waited, lavishly decorated, and surely the last place to find a young bachelor moping off to the side.

While Chris serves as the honorable host, Sebastian feels as if he is the least important person in the room. Selfishly, he reminisces on the night when Chris’s attention was undivided unto him. His attention in the form of eyes, hands, mouth. The at a time unpleasant memory warped into fantasy fueled by his own desires, more fierce now than ever.

Chris is everything he cannot have. He’s older, well into his career, in a committed heterosexual relationship, and from a completely different socioeconomic class. And he’d bet good money Chris doesn’t have clips of himself online sucking off a line of faceless guys. Sebastian relieves his stress by aggressively forking a few more cherry tomatoes past his lips, bursting with sweet acidity.

His boss stands nobly in this navy three piece suit, darker in contrast to Sebastian’s new one. The crowd’s attention is commandeered with a story from Chris’s youth. Something having to do with family and community and responsibility. Sebastian can’t find it in himself to relate.

“I really want to thank you all for hauling ass down here,” he begins to close. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without support from each and every one of you.” Wishful thoughts trick Sebastian into thinking Chris’s eyes to land on him. Yeah, definitely him, the figure leaning over on the side shrouded in darkness with a small salad bowl and the facial twitch, and _not_ on the tables of land owners and prize winners, people who get their family’s name engraved in museum placards and sidewalks.

“But we’re just getting started. We’ve got a long road ahead, and it’s gonna take everything we’ve got to make it through. I look forward to a great campaign, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you, again, and enjoy the rest of your evening.” Chris steps down, and the applause settles after he finds his place at the front table next to Anthony and a gorgeous blonde woman—his Emily. Whom of which he embraces and kisses, beams at with love in his eyes. Sebastian doesn’t really feel like finishing his salad after bearing witness to that.

He steps out to one of the few balconies of the fine hotel for a lonesome smoke. A few minutes later, Sebastian is accompanied by the man of the hour.

“Have you made any new friends?”

Sebastian blinks. God, Chris is so sincere sometimes. Most times. All the fucking time. “Not so much. Shook some hands, though. I’m afraid I…didn’t make much of an impression.”

“Boy, I know the feeling.”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris finds himself again comforted by how easily they can banter.

“I mean,” his face scrunches, “you’re like, so confident and collected. Cool as a cucumber.”

Chris smirks at that last part and refrains from admitting the gushy comment that blooms in his mind. “A cucumber, huh?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Public speaking is one of your strong suits. Makes sense, really.”

“All that,” he nods in the direction of the main hall where his friends and benefactors dine in merriment, “Practice. Pep talks in front of the mirror. I know you were hoping to unlock the secret of success in politics but I’m afraid I’ll never be much help,” he jokes.

“Bull.” Working with Chris has been the best use of his time since he stopped reading _Star Wars_ fan novels.

Chris chuckles, a sound as warm as the hand patting Sebastian’s back. “You’re a good kid.”

A kid, right. Never mind the fact he can legally buy alcohol. Sebastian feels like he needs to exercise that privilege to flush out the feelings he gets while in proximity to his tall, handsome boss.

Sebastian brings the cigarette to his lips again, and Chris makes a pinching gesture, wordlessly requesting a hit of his smoke. He complies, throat bobbing as Chris takes a long, effortless drag.

They peer in silence past the balcony into the darkened wilderness below. Sebastian thinks he sees an owl fly from one tree to another. Or a bat of some kind. Do bats hang out in trees?

Sebastian’s introspection is cut short when the buzz of Chris’s phone brings him back to reality.

“Em’s calling for me. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Chris passes the cigarette back to him.

“Yeah, sure thing. Enjoy your night, boss.”

They part with a sure palm on Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian relishes the touch despite himself. “I haven’t kept your dedication to the cause a secret around my table, okay? Lots of doors waiting for your foot to be put in it.”

He considers Chris’s words. Sebastian ends up chatting at the bar with a woman who mistakes his interest in her charity work for flirting and he cuts his night short, admitting defeat. He doesn’t even know what he wants to do with his life anymore. If he can’t make proper small talk with community administrators without them eventually grabbing his ass then how does he expect to go to bat as a diplomat? He’s gonna end up a punchline to some political sex scandal if he keeps this shit up.

Luckily he sees what appears to be a private moment of quarrel between Emily and Chris behind a large column, only they don’t look so much like the loving couple of the year anymore. He’s overcome with warm satisfaction.

My god, he’s despicable.

 

 

\--

 

 

Sebastian pumps a large mugful of coffee from his Keurig and taps through a slideshow from one of his classes. He receives a Snapchat from his buddy Chace, five seconds of his feet captioned with: “fuck 8ams…..” to which he replies “u should be used to this by now,” over a picture of himself raising a skeptical brow.

He’s halfway done with his oatmeal when he receives another message from Chace. The image is of his classmate placing a hand over his mouth in mock seriousness: “missd you at the club last thurs :’(” to which he replies “been busy.”

He really has been busy. Chris hasn’t given him a lot of free time to practice any new routines like he used to at _Angelo’s_ before the doors open at 4 in the afternoon. Sebastian misses performing but he’s not willing to push his luck. His gig with Chris is more important.

Perry and Pumpkin squeal in their large cage—either because they want out, or they’re humping again. They do that a lot. Since they’re both male, Sebastian doesn’t see why he should separate them. Who is he to get in the way of young love?

Like fate, his phone buzzes with life, caller ID flashing a well-known number. “Good morning, Cherry,”

_“Sebastian? It’s so good to hear your voice!”_

“You too,” he replies through a smile.

“ _Oh, baby. I need your help. Amanda called in with a family emergency tonight, something about her brother in jail again—but I need your help! She had the only performance of the night and I cannot disappoint my loyal customers_.”

Damn, Amanda. Just like the bitch to call out at the last minute. He’s got some more evening calls to make for Chris, but can’t let Cherry down. She’s always been there for him in times of need. Like when he was new to the city and needed contacts to the local pot dealer.

The club used to be such a big part of his life that it might do him some good to perform tonight. “What time?”

“ _Showtime’s at nine. Your pick of routine.”_

“Alright, I’m in. But you owe me.” What damage can one night really do?

As it turns out, a whole fucking lot.

It’s eight forty-nine when Sebastian turns his phone off and secures it safely in his locker in the familiar dressing room. He’s wearing a dark wig of wavy locks, fastened and hair-sprayed up with colorful flower pins in a style inspired by the late Amy Winehouse. He’s adopted the dramatic wings of her eyeliner, feeling like a true alternative-reggae princess in his ruffled red rose patterned corset and skirt, leather boots, and black netted hosiery. He half considers taking his phone back out to snap some cute selfies.

The stage is empowering, refreshing after months of stress. Sabrina’s body melts against and around the pole to the rhythm of Amy’s _Back to Black_. He truly feels the most alive while he’s performing like this: adoring lights above him accompanying the worshiping crowd below.

Sabrina expertly coordinates his sendoff from the stage within the last few beats of booming bass.

“You were amazing out there,” Ronnie the waitress slinks from the main floor to greet her friend backstage. They embrace and she kisses his made-up cheek. Sebastian speculates her gelled pink hair hasn’t moved an inch from its placement against her cranium all night.

“Thanks. One of these days I hope to have you up there with me.” Ronnie helps him out of his dressings. Sebastian’s perfectly comfortable shedding his wardrobe around her. Ronnie’s about as queer as a three dollar bill.

“Do you remember that guy you fell on a few months back? I think it was one of your last shows?”

He blanches. “Huh?” Sebastian’s only fallen on one man. “I think so. Guy like that’s, uh, hard to forget.”

Ronnie undoes the clasps to the corset completely. “Now I don’t want you to freak out, but he’s definitely here.”

Sebastian whips around. Surely he misheard.

“He’s _what.”_

“I waited his table. He’s here alone drinking beers—”

“He’s here?!”

“Yeah, he is. He’s such a sweetheart!”

He’s shaking. “You sure it’s him, Ronnie? I mean, you sure? You’ve only met him once.” This can’t be happening.

“Let me finish. He’s also been coming every once in a while, all by himself, and…he’s been asking about you—”

“About me?!” Sebastian, now topless, rushes over to out of the dressing room to peer out the door separating the main floor. Sure enough, Chris is there. In a dark baseball cap and a neat grey sweater. That’s definitely him, fucking _shit!_ His throat constricts around a squeal as Chris’s eyes somehow land on his, or on the movement of the door, he isn’t sure.

“And he wants me to ask you to come over to his table to talk. It’s sort of adorable actually. The way he looks at you.”

Chris is still staring and moves to stand. Sebastian slams the door so hard the wall quakes.

“You have to kick him out.” Sebastian marches back to the dressing room, Ronnie’s small heels clicking along beside him.

“What? I know it’s a little strange but he’s really chill and polite about it. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous. And he smells rich.”

Tears of frustration and humiliation well, threatening to spill. “Tell him I’m unavailable.” He was having so much fun tonight. Why does everything blow up in his face?

Ronnie doesn’t sense his distress. “I just feel for the guy, you know? He’s been here like, at least five or six times, asking about you, drinking alone…a total hottie like that? Doesn’t drop in your lap like that more than once in a lifetime.”

“Why don’t _you_ go home with him then,” he spits, unpinning his wig.

Ronnie laughs. “Fine. I’ll tell him to get lost.”

Sebastian unfurls a wipe from his baggie of makeup remover, pausing. “Ronnie, wait. Just…let him down easy, okay? Please?”

Her smile is faint from the dressing room doorway. “Not a problem.”

Chris sees Ronnie appear through the door across the way.

He almost didn’t come out tonight. It’s not like he’s got all this free time, but Em’s away at her parents’ place in Ontario for the week, the first swing of the campaign is coming to a close, and even Sebastian’s busier lately with school. He’s never felt more alone.

And when Sabrina came out, guns blazing, he was floored. It sounds fanatical, but it truly felt like they were the only two in the room. The entire performance is forever engraved into his most treasured of memories.

He really needs to get a fucking grip.

It’s beyond him how he mustered the courage to ask his trusted rose-haired waitress to see if Sabrina would be willing to hear his praise face to face.  Ronnie sighs and Chris knows the words about to leave her mouth. Get lost, freak. Dream on. We’re drafting the restraining order as we speak. “Sabrina really isn’t feeling well right now, okay? She’s been having a tough time at her other job, and this performance just about zapped what energy she’s got left for the day.”

Chris is already nodding at the floor. He stands, and carefully tucks in his chair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be going.”

“She’s just not feeling herself. You understand, don’t you?”

“Tell her I promise not to bother her again. I just,” his laugh tastes bitter, “I just like her dancing,” he admits.

“Hope to see you back at your usual spot soon,” Ronnie sympathizes.

 She’s probably right. He’s so pathetic that he hardly recognizes himself. He drops a healthy tip for Ronnie and leaves for the bus stop, mind swimming in shame and self-loathing.

Ronnie taps on the open door of the dressing room and Sebastian’s almost got all of his makeup off. This time Sebastian speaks first.

“So, he’s really been here multiple times?”

“All to see you, hon. I mean, usually he’s disappointed. But tonight…should’ve seen his face when he saw you walk out onstage. Like he’s caught under some sort of spell.”

Sebastian’s heart leaps to find homage in his throat. He’s been coming here to see him? Just to see him?

No. That’s not it at all. Chris comes here to see the sexy, sophisticated Sabrina dance at a distance. Not awkward goof Sebastian, now the punchline of another cruel joke.

 

 

\--

 

 

Chris drops his keys on the table by his bed. Emily’s there, tapping away at her phone.

“How was your trip?” Chris asks, avoiding asking why she’s home so early.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she replies instead.

Chris blinks. “I told you I was at the office.” He’s no good at talking in circles, especially to someone he loves.

“I know you’ve felt like you’re alone lately. But you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I think I’m gay.”

Emily sets her phone in her lap. “What makes you think that?” she asks, plugging her phone in for the night when Chris doesn’t respond.

Chris tucks himself into bed, waiting for Emily to spoon behind him. When she does he sighs, content. “Have you been hooking up with men?” she asks wearily, squeezing around his middle.

“No, I would never! I just get—trapped in my head.” Never say never but he wouldn't dare betray Em while they’re together.

“If you want to,” she starts, “after I leave, you can.” She says, in reference to her prospective new career in London. “And even if I don’t get the job. I knew we were never gonna get married. I just want you to be happy.”

Emily’s too good for him.

“I just want you to be happy too,” he implores. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, inaudible enough that Em doesn’t hear. He holds her arms tighter around his waist and falls into a fitful sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of Chris’s last public appearances before the election is outside the children’s hospital downtown. Every crewmember that propped Chris up into the public eye is in attendance, organized in the hospital’s manicured courtyard. Sebastian is seated to the right of a large geometric sculpture painted with children’s handprints of every color. And to the left of him is Chris’s girlfriend, whom of which he has never held a true conversation with.

The reporters snap photos of Chris looking cute with the sick children and Sebastian resists taking some of his own. But just of Chris.

Sebastian’s phone blinks up from his lap.

Chace: _You busy tonight?_

_Maybe, why_

Chace: _Because the gay sorority is having a party tonight_

  _Um, the gay sorority?_

Chace: _Yes and you have to come. Tons of gays will be there_

Emily’s probably reading over his shoulder. He just knows it. His eyes dart to confirm his suspicions.

She wasn’t. How rude of her. His business isn’t snoop worthy?

_Will there be bbbbeverages?_

He really isn’t that much of a freeloader when it comes to alcohol. But.

Chace: _I’ve been told there will be lots_

The crowd around him cheers, photographers flash the space repeatedly, leaving Sebastian seated in the sea of standing ovation. He can’t really hear what Chris is saying because he’s stepped from the microphones. Everything ends in a flurry and Sebastian doesn’t get a chance to congratulate him. Chris is taking his staff out to dinner next week anyway.

It’s just past eight when Sebastian finishes gelling his hair into its rightful place, and brushes a small coat of mascara just to feel a little prettier. He refills the bottle for his rabbits and ties the laces of his Converses, trying and failing to keep his mind on the present. He half-considers flying Chris a congratulatory text, deciding against it when he realizes how weird that would be at this time of night.

Sebastian slides a few flavored condoms in his back pocket and for once doesn’t feel ashamed. He deserves a little fun.

And he does have fun, seeing that the night is young and so is he. The sea of writhing bodies and red plastic cups are a feast to his senses, and somehow he has no issues getting his paws on a bottle of imported beer. Chace is off somewhere with a girl in his lap, or guy, or both.

The abrupt and distinct feeling of a large hand on his ass should have been more surprising. The average-looking boy in a snap-back, either drunk or high or both, plasters himself to Sebastian’s side. Sebastian’s impressed with his forwardness, if you considered wetly whispering “Wanna fuck?” in Sebastian’s cheek.

Sebastian’s a little more than drunk at this point, and tells the boy to meet him upstairs.

On his knees, Sebastian doesn’t have to look at anyone or anything but the strawberry flavored cock in his face. It’s not hard to imagine Chris’s scent—cologne and herbal shampoo, musk and coffee, or to imagine the fist in his hair as the hands that haunt his dreams. His mind is fooling him again into reminiscing on the ghostly imprint if Chris’s trembling fingers against the insides of his thighs, making Sebastian quiver and moan around the penetration. The boy before him takes that as a queue to fuck his face, selfishly using Sebastian as a receptacle for his own pleasure.

This is where Sebastian’s fantasy slips. Chris wouldn’t use him. In another life, they’d make love like soulmates and fuck like animals if need be, but their sex would be reciprocal and based on the other’s pleasure. And Chris would most definitely not taste like strawberries.

The guy moans and comes, the force of his final throe causing Sebastian to gag around his girth. He shouldn’t be so hard on this random guy when he’s the one on his knees in someone’s walk-in closet. Especially when he’s reminded that at least two videos of him taking dick from a whole group of men who look just like this guy is readily available on the internet.

Later after Sebastian’s cab drops him off at his apartment, he fingers himself open to make way for his lean blue vibrator, coming a mess in his sheets to the thought of Chris touching himself while watching him like this. Fuck, laundry day isn’t for another week.

Finally sated, Sebastian’s mildly drunk mind forms a maniacal idea to quell his craving for Chris’s attention. It takes one text to Cherry to solidify his plan.

The first Thursday he returns to dance, Chris is nowhere to be seen. He tries not to let the sinking disappointment distract him from the paying patrons of the night. The second Thursday he comes out, decked out in his biggest, blondest wig, only to be disappointed again. He lets Cherry know not to save a slot for him anymore. He tells himself Chris has better things to do and to think about, like next month’s critical election.

Next month soon becomes next week when Chris and Sebastian pile into Chris’s Porsche.

Neglect was the direct cause of Sebastian's car stalling on the way home from the grocery store one morning. Possibly bad luck, but he honestly can't remember the last time his car got any of its fluids and gaskets and belts and whatever the fuck else changed. Normally Chace was good about reminding him, but Chace is in Chace's world, something about a new older girlfriend whom of which, if his memory supplies correctly, "does and knows nothing but anal."

So he finds himself vehemently turning down Chris's offer to borrow one of his cars, and ends up bargaining down to carpooling with his handsome boss. His friend, really. They're allowed to be friends.

"So you're saying you've never seen the Indiana Jones trilogy?"

"No, oh god, you don't have to keep saying that!" he laughs.

"Like, never ever?" Chris's large hands steer his car from the street parking deck, onto the slowly flooding streets of Boston. The windshield is assaulted by the storm, but Chris remains as calm as ever.

"Never, ever, ever," he confirms, shaking his head.

"One day we've got to take an evening to fix that."

Sebastian's gut tightens at the sound of a movie night invitation. Impulsively, he looks over at his counterpart. "You actually wanna spend more time together outside work?" he blurts.

Of course, Chris laughs. "C'mon, I can't be that boring, can I?"

"What? No, I meant like," God, he sounds like a teenager, fumbling out a confession. "I guess I just don't understand why you would want to hang out with me."

"Aw, what do you mean by that? What's not to like? You're plenty of fun. And your presence is very refreshing to an old guy like me, surrounded by other old guys every day."

"You’re not as old as you think. And you’re not always surrounded by old guys. You've got," Great, word vomit. "Emily."

Chris's face does something odd. "Emily and I aren't really like that. I mean, we are, but,” He flicks a brief, sullen look to Sebastian. “Lately we’ve been … distant." A lot of the distance is attributed to his Gay Panic but he’s not really interested in spreading that secret around. Bi Panic is probably more accurate a term, anyway.

"Oh?" Sebastian's lips have to stop themselves from twisting in delight.

Chris sighs, cat out of the bag. He trusts Sebastian, so he opens himself to the scrutiny. “We’ve always been great friends, you know? It just made sense for two thirty year olds to get together. I’ve been holding her back, pulling focus with my career while she’s trying hard to start hers. International law. She wants to accept an offer in England.”

Sebastian really didn’t know what to say, so, more word vomit. “There’s no way you becoming a congressman reflects poorly on her. If anything she’s lucky to have the support of such a successful guy.”

“Thanks, man,” he laughs, “but I want her to do what she wants for herself and no one else. She deserves it, you know?”

Sebastian’s chest tightens slightly with guilt. Chris is right, as usual. He only dislikes the girl for the most selfish and petty reasons ever. The rain pelts harder. “You deserve happiness too,” Sebastian replies.

Chris doesn’t get a chance to react when he slams on his breaks, dodging the pair of fawns and pummeling the sixty thousand dollar car into the guard rail.

 

 

\--

 

 

Chris awakes with the sound of a steady mechanical beep, then startles when a screech assaults his ears.

“Lisa, he’s okay! Don’t scare him. He needs to rest.” His vision might be blurred but he definitely registers his father’s rational tone. Chris tries to sit up, challenged by his arm, the left one, when a hand on his chest stops him.

“Honey, stay where you are. Try not to move. They just fished you out of a ditch!” his mother declares.

Chris brings his good hand to assault the closest object, which happens to be his dad’s shirt. “The guy I was with—Sebastian—is he okay? Is he—?”

“Oh, that young man? He’s fine, he’s right over there!” Chris’s mom points to the other bed in the room. Sebastian lies, facing away from Chris. Peaceful in his rest and looking relatively unscathed. Except for the thick patch of gauze adhered to his forehead.

How could he have been so careless? He could’ve gotten them both killed!

“He’s alright, Chris, really!” Lisa swats her husband. “Dammit, text Scott he’s awake!—your brother and sister and Emily went downstairs for some coffee,” she chides, patting his bearded cheek. “The doctors wanna keep you for a night because of that goosing on your head but you should be up and ready to go for your big day next week! I told the doctor’s to give you the blue wrap. To match your ties.” Lisa points at the freshly casted arm, a royal blue against the whiteness of the gown and sheets, but Chris hasn’t removed his eyes from the steady rise and fall of Sebastian’s chest. His mother continues but he doesn’t register.

Sebastian, fitful in his rest, lolls his head toward Chris and his family. He rouses softly and his eyes connect with Chris’s as natural as instinct. His mother acknowledges his diverted attention. “Oh, Sebastian, honey, you feeling a little better? You want me to call your parents?”

“’M’fine,” groans Sebastian. He smiles at the new faces. “I FaceTime with my mom every Sunday from New York –”

The hospital room door swings open. Emily, two girls whom Sebastian assumes are Chris’s sisters, Scott, and Mackie swoop in, coddling their fallen hero. Hugs from the siblings and Emily, a grateful shoulder pat from Mackie. Sebastian gets a shoulder pat from Mackie too, but not as good as the one he gave Chris. Maybe he looks too delicate. Scarlett trails in, hugging Chris for a good while. She goes to Sebastian’s bedside and pulls him in for an embrace.

Aside from the seatbelt bruise and the bump on his head from the airbag, Sebastian was unharmed during the accident. No one besides a doctor and maybe a nurse while Chris was out cold has even spoken to him, or acknowledged his injuries in any way. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal though. Chris is the one with a broken arm. But Sebastian’s fine. He misses him mom, but that’s a retired feeling.

To Sebastian’s surprise, Emily is the first to suggest they leave. “He’s not going anywhere, not for tonight. Let’s let the guys get some rest, alright?” She sends Sebastian a supporting smile from across the room and Sebastian feels guilty about the tons of mean, childish thoughts towards her.

Chris's family tear themselves away, with Mackie promising to reorganize his schedule next week after he gets a full nights rest. He doesn't seem to care at that moment. Chris, now alone with Sebastian in the sterile, air conditioned space, clears his throat gruffly.

"I, uhm," Chris croaks.

Sebastian turns, taking in Chris's cast and hospital gown. He smiles, grateful Chris is okay, but Chris's grim face crumples and the man descends into a fit of uncontrolled sobs. It's an ugly sight, and Sebastian is at a complete loss of words. "Chris...?" he attempts. "Hey Chris, don't –"

Chris bellows into his palm, rolling away from Sebastian in an attempt to muffle his bitch tears. This is all his fault. How could he be so careless with their lives? With Sebastian's? And how could he be so careless towards his family?

Several minutes pass and Chris's sobs are quelled to soft sniffles. Chris's gown does little to hide his toned bared thighs and boxer-briefed ass, winking from beneath the thin fabric. Sebastian is so distraught having borne witness to Chris's breakdown that he fails to find the pose sexy. "Chris, are you okay?"

He clears his throat again. "Yeah, just tired."

"You want me to call the doctor?"

"No, it's fine. You're okay though, right? I'm, I’m really sorry about everything. Just tell me you’re alright, please."

Sebastian’s chest constricts. “I’m fine, overall. I actually can’t remember what happened. But I know it wasn’t your fault.” Sebastian fidgets under Chris’s heady gaze when he turns.

The diffused lighting gives Sebastian’s gaunt features a youthful glow. Chris hasn’t had many opportunities to use the word ‘pretty’ to describe a man before—a boy, really—but he’ll admit to himself that’s a word that describes Sebastian.

Eventually, eyes are shut, and the only sounds which echo are the rhythmic beeping and breathing of the hospital room’s inhabitants.

Naturally, this week becomes last, and Chris stands before his supportive campaign team. The hand that isn’t hanging limp in his sing raises his flute of champagne to toast. Sebastian’s another face in the sea of proud smiles.

“Whatever happens tonight, I cannot express how much it has truly been a blessing to not just rise as a politician, but more importantly grow as a person on this trail with you all this past year. So I mean it when I thank you all, and send thanks to your families and friends who’ve been patient with the hectic schedule of this campaign. Enjoy the festivities, but please don’t get too loud or we’ll miss the call and we’ll have to hear our victory from Fox News!” Sebastian laughs along with his team, feeling better about the end of the campaign than he originally had. Considering he’ll have to return to school full time next month and Chris would most likely move on to Life on Capitol Hill. In actuality, congressmen only migrate to Washington a few weeks out of the year, but he’s sickeningly sure Chris will regard Sebastian as a pleasant memory, a phase in his life of even higher prestige.

The room hushes at the sound of the ringing of the office speakerphone, and Chris does the honor of answering.

Sebastian will remember feeling pure elation, hope, relief, and the scorch of disappointment, when the voice on the other end of the line confirms that Congressman Evans has won the seat. Everyone in the room cheers, except Chris who stands in shock. His mother screeches and wraps him in an embrace, careful not to jostle his bad arm.

Chris snaps out of his astonished trance to next embrace each of his family members, and close friends, including a giggling Sebastian, unbelievably happy for Chris despite his selfish fears of losing him. “Only another month before that new title of yours means something,” Sebastian jokes.

“Hah. Well I’ve waited this long. I can take another month.”

Sebastian giggles some more and Chris is so overcome with emotion that he pulls Sebastian close for another, tighter hug. Sebastian’s heart might beat out of his chest. Somewhere Chris hears Mackie do his Eddie Murphy impression for some reason but focuses on the smiling face in front of him. “You wanna come with me to the next Patriots game this Sunday, Seb? To celebrate?” He shouts the proposition hopefully over the cheering and conversation of the room.

Sebastian almost gags, he’s so happy. “Yes! Yes, I would love to.”

 

 

\--

 

 

Hair gelled to perfection, Sebastian emerges from his bathroom. Chris asked him out. Well, not ‘out’. It's definitely a friend date, but it still means Chris really does like hanging out with him outside of the office! Chris will be here any minute.

He saunters over to the two nose twitching fur balls, palming their soft bodies for moral and emotional support. “You two be good while I’m out today. Whew! You need a good scrub, Perry. Love you.”

The door rattles, and Sebastian swings it open without checking the peephole. He suddenly feels very stupid. Chris is in a backwards snap-back, 2 days of scruff, a tight Patriots tee-shirt and loose sweats and running shoes, and that clunky blue cast no longer in its sling. Looking absolutely nothing like the suave congressman elect that he became a few days ago. Sebastian’s in ironed skinny jeans, a white tee, and the navy cardigan he got at J. Crew last month. Not to mention his gay hair. “Hey, um—” God, he so needs to change!

“Time to go! Tom’s waiting for us.”

“What? Who’s Tom?” he starts, but Chris is already running down the hall. “Dammit.” Chris can be such a dork, honestly.

Sebastian chases after him, barely getting the chance to lock his door. He expects for Chris to be idling in whatever this week’s SUV is, but Chris has a cab waiting.

Inside Chris gives directions to the bus station. Bus station? Chris knows how to ride the bus? “It’s better this way. Don’t have to worry about parking,” Chris admits. Sebastian worries that’s not the only reason, but he keeps quiet.

The bus ride is loud and crowded, but Chris’s wide frame makes their shoulders brush comfortably throughout the trip. Chris updates Sebastian on players’ stats and the strategies of the game itself, which Sebastian thinks is sweet of him. He may not be the pinnacle of masculinity but he does catch football games once every good while. They’re especially good viewing for those evenings alone when he has time for cucumber-melon facial masks.

They make it to the stadium after another brief taxi trip, and Chris ushers Sebastian past the main ticket hall and through the crowds with a sure palm to Sebastian’s back into the entrance for the sports equivalent to box seats. They order burgers and cheese fries, which are the best cheese fries Sebastian’s ever eaten. He wishes like hell he could feel this special all the time.

They’re well into the second quarter when Sebastian is done playing cool and can no longer hold in his gratitude for this day. “Hey, Chris? I cannot thank you enough for inviting me out here today.”

Chris grins, palming Sebastian’s knee. “I was just about to thank you for agreeing to come along.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah. Things are about to change, for me, you, all our friends.”

Sebastian swallows. He knows Chris is just talking about their occasional comradery but that annoying, flaming part of him is screaming, _yes Chris! Of course I’ll marry you!_

“I just wanted one last day of normal. Of fun.” Chris turns toward the field. He hasn’t driven any of his cars since the accident, favoring taxi, favors from friends, and on occasion public transportation. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel comfortable chauffeuring Sebastian around ever again. “Hey, after the game, think you’re up for a movie back at my place? I was thinking we could maybe start the Indy films—whoa, you alright? Easy there…”

Sebastian barely stops himself from hacking up his lungs when his Bud Light falls down the wrong pipe at Chris’s proposal. 

And of course Chris's house is nothing short of immaculate, a palace in the eyes of an immigrant’s child. His step-father has money, but the Evans family is Massachusetts royalty. Gleefully, Sebastian imagines a world where he marries into the bloodline, waiting on his handsome politician husband to return from Washington.

"Make yourself at home. Want anything to drink?"

“Um, some water would be nice.” Chris ought to look strange in his frat-bro ensemble against this lavish estate’s interior, but he’s the type of person who looks like he’d fit in anywhere. It’s clear this palace is his home.

Chris escorts Sebastian to the living room—if you could call it a room. It’s more like a living zone. Gigantic TV, gigantic sofas, gigantic ottomans. Sebastian snuggles up to the side closest to the kitchen, feeling dwarfed by the cushions, by this intimate view of Chris’s large lifestyle.

Wedged between the arm rest and his back Sebastian finds a thick, leather bound book. Chris is in the kitchen, and the microwave hums. The book just happens to slip open. Sebastian swallows, registering the pops of popcorn reverberating from the kitchen.

It’s a sketchbook, filled with pages of graphite sketches with some more detailed than others. Could be charcoal, but Sebastian doesn’t know the difference. Still-lifes of sleeping dogs, the nearby hearth, books, a watch, another watch, some portraits of people Sebastian might’ve recognized, more dogs, and—Emily. Portraits, more portraits, and partial _nudes_ —this sketchbook has to belong to Chris!

He’s looking through Chris’s sketchbook. Without his consent. Chris like’s to draw? And is amazingly talented? Is it too early in their nonexistent relationship to tell Chris he loves him?

Sebastian turns another page, and it feels like sin, but he’s painfully curious and craves to see the world through Chris’s eyes. This page is much different from the others. It’s in full, vibrant color. A painting of some sort, perhaps watercolor, of a pair of heels that Sebastian offhandedly knows are meant for dancers. Except the heel of one of the pair in the picture are broken.

The book falls shut in his lap as the evidence sinks in. Sebastian knows exactly where he got his inspiration. Sabrina’s heels led to their meeting, their dance, and their kiss. He hadn’t known the extent of Chris’s infatuation with his alter ego.

 He aches to out himself already. _It’s me, Chris! I’m the one you want, I’ve been here all along!_

“How do you feel about extra butter? I’m not talkin’ ‘extra butter’ like it says at the grocery store. This shit is drenched in like, 2 sticks of melted Land O’ Lakes.”

“Sounds delicious,” he croaks, failing miserably to tuck the sketchbook back.

“Oh, I meant to move that. I’ll take it,” Chris gestures to the book, tone uneasy.

An hour into the flick Chris provides some commentary about the directing and turns to look at Sebastian for approval. Instead he’s fast asleep, chin bunched against his chest, in a slouch that can't conceivably be comfortable. He’s about to wake him when Emily returns from her commute toting a half finished iced coffee. Chris always thought it was endearing how Em would always drink cold caffeinated drinks rather than hot ones like any other Bostonian would by the end of autumn.

He makes a quick shushing gesture with his finger. Emily raises her brow at the state of the living room, but can’t help a smirk at her not-quite-boyfriend’s signal toward the snoozing young man in the skinny jeans.

“What’s he doing here?” she whispers. “Isn’t it a school night?” Chris can’t tell if she’s joking.

“He’s just crashing here!” Chris stage whispers.

“’Just’ crashing here?” she parrots, smirking. “He’s not one of your mysterious dates?”

_“Em!”_ Chris nearly shouts after her.

Chris tugs a quilt from the armchair to drape over Sebastian. The boy's eyes beat beneath his petal thin lids. Sebastian’s got the sweetest sleeping expression, those expressive features impossibly lax in slumber.

If only there was a way he could pack Sebastian in his suitcase to Washington.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

Waking up in Chris's house? A pleasant sentiment. Chris's mom making him french toast? He can't remember the last time he'd felt this much at home.

"Sorry I didn't wake you," Chris chimes from the staircase. Sebastian grins to himself at Chris's puppy dog pajama bottoms.

"It's fine, I'm the one that should apologize for passing out on your couch like that."

"Not a problem at all, man. Couldn't wake you. You looked so damn cute sleeping like a baby." Chris should feel embarrassed for saying that but it's just so true! And it makes Sebastian blush, which is even better.

"You make me feel so manly."

"What do you need to feel manly for?" Chris struggles with his fork to slice his toast with one available hand, so Sebastian, without warning, scoots over and starts cutting bite sized pieces of Chris's breakfast with his own knife and fork.

Chris smiles, raising his brows in mock annoyance. "Thanks, Mom."

Sebastian immediately drops his utensils, realizing what he's done. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to help."

"No, no, I need all the help I can get." Chris's tone reflects his genuine nature. "Can you to finish? You're way better at this than I am."

Sebastian cannot resist that scruffy grin, so he hastily chops up what's left of his french toast, defeating his embarrassment with every slice.

"Much appreciated."

 

\--

 

“Chris, where on earth are you going?”

“I told you. I’m meeting with some friends,” he lies.

“This late? And with your arm?” his mother groans from her reading seat in front of the family hearth.

“I’m thirty-four, ma.”

“Even more concerning. When’s the last time you spent time with your brother and sisters?”

Chris laces up his tennis shoes with finality. “We’re all going out to dinner tomorrow with some of the campaign team, you know that.”

His father pads into the common area, sipping from his earl grey. “Lisa, he’s a grown man. A public figure, no less. He knows his limits,” Bob chides, serving Chris a meaningful look.

Chris just shakes his head. Sometimes living with his family is burdening. 

The cab that picks him up takes him to a familiar bus stop, and the familiar bus takes him to a familiar pair of club doors.

Backstage, Sebastian's heart ricochets inside his chest. He had come to the club on a whim, sporting a gut feeling Chris would be in attendance. Like, maybe the anxiety of the race has lifted and he wanted to let loose?

Miraculously, his hopes were confirmed with Ronnie giggling that his "handsome bearded stalker" eagerly awaits his routine. "I told him you have a special dance planned for him tonight!" she jeers.

“Gee, thanks.” Oh god, he's crazy! What is he thinking purposefully putting on a show for Chris? Who's probably not even inebriated yet! Sebastian layers on another coat of deep red lipstick, counting down in his head to calm his nerves.

It’s been weeks since Chris has seen her perform. He finds a table nearest to the stage and awaits his fate.

Adam Lambert’s _Ghost Town_ erupts from the stage’s speakers. Chris nearly weeps at the sign of her, Sabrina, tall and commanding in black thigh-high stockings and shimmery red stilettos. A simple mesh tank and black silk panties adorns the rest of her, over glittered skin twinkling like diamonds.

Sebastian can easily pick Chris out of the crowd. He’s staring in a fashion that can only be described as enraptured. Sabrina's shameless where Sebastian isn't, so she locks eyes with Chris and mixes in a lewd gesture with her hands and crotch. Chris scrubs a hand over his face and Sabrina blossoms with satisfaction.

Chris can’t keep his palms dry enough. Sabrina is looking right at him! Performing just for him, like Ronnie said. Getting hard in a crowded room isn't exactly his idea of acceptable Congressional behavior but Sabrina brings out this adventurous, scandalous side of him.

Sebastian was sure to intensify the contour of Sabrina's makeup in an attempt to make Sebastian unrecognizable. Confidence in his skill of disguise makes her actions more brazen and exclusively in Chris’s view. These moves would make Sebastian faint in shame, but call her a slut, Sabrina would blow the entire club if it would keep that look on Chris’s face.

Surefooted, Sabrina kicks onto Chris’s table, and Chris is in heaven. He weighs heavy with fear, lust, excitement, and can barely resist reaching up to touch her to make his dream a reality.

No fan, no lover has ever beheld him like Chris is in this eternal moment. Not even the morning after his hottest fuck has he felt this on top of the world.

Sabrina trots back onto stage, forcing herself to part with her admirer. She catches Chris palming what has to be an erection through his khakis from his seat. Alarmed and overcome with desire, Sabrina ends her song clumsily, but not enough that an untrained eye would be concerned.

The amount of times Sebastian Stan has masturbated to thoughts of his boss should be shocking and ridiculous but in comparison to his entire life, he finds himself not at all scandalized at his actions as he pumps his fist on his cock and leans back onto his shower wall. Chris however, has never masturbated to thoughts of Sabrina, and attempts to form thoughts of his now more distant than ever girlfriend to get himself off later that night. Thoughts of those legs, that _mouth_ , those eyes that haunt his mind end up bringing him to climax anyway.

He feels like a cheat and a sleaze.

He's known he's obsessed with Sabrina for a while now, but after tonight’s attention he’s sure she has some sort of affinity towards him. Chris calls the club the next afternoon to make sure Sabrina is performing the following Thursday night.

Chris waits for the curtain to raise, lights to flash, music to blast. Ronnie slips him a goofy wink and a thumbs-up from her perch by the side door to the kitchen. He flushes in embarrassment, fortunately not having the chance to wallow in it when Sabrina slips onstage. Chris is white-knuckling as he absorbs her costume. Cotton-candy blue hair, cropped white blouse, the shortest miniskirt he’s ever seen, white leggings and garter belts—Chris’s favorite!—and sharp black stilettos. He doesn’t know what song is playing this time, probably because he’s getting old.

He's got to pack and meet with his team all week. He shouldn't allow for himself to get distracted, regardless of how infatuated he is with this dancer!

My god, Sabrina is so fucking flexible.

Chris knows that those little smirks and stolen looks from those thickly lashed eyes are directed entirely at him. She’s teasing him, and boy, does Chris wanna be teased.

Sabrina artfully tumbles to Chris’s table, heavy with the beat. Catches Chris dead in the eye, his chest more taught than a tight-rope as she snatches his half empty bottle of Heineken from his hand to steal a swig for herself. The hollers of the audience fall deaf to Chris’s red ears when Sabrina pops her lips and tongue around the tip so deviously that every prick in the room must feel their power having born witness to such a move.

Chris’s least favorite time of his week: the end of Sabrina’s song. She curtsies, grinning with pride towards the center of her audience. Those bright eyes land on Chris’s again and her smile expands, all teeth and a little silly, but no less beautiful. Chris comes to the conclusion that he has to speak with her. Face to face.

Not to confess his undying love and devotion or anything like that. There’s this mystery that surrounds her, a puzzle made to be solved. He only hopes she isn’t freaked by his forwardness, but he wants more than anything to get to know the girl. Guy. Another reason he needs to properly introduce himself, speaking to her would help clear the pronoun issue.

He later discovers Sabrina doesn't take private dances because the pay isn't as good as the full performance, Chris offers to the woman on the phone to pay what the club pays her, plus any convenience fee, plus a healthy tip.

" _Mr. Evans, Sabrina is our shining star. I'm not sure you'd be able to afford her time, excuse my choice of words."_

Chris considers this as the barista calls out his latte. "Would a thousand be enough?"

Chris hears a loud clang. " _A thousand?!”_

"Fifteen hundred? In cash?"

" _Good lord, you're not some crazy ex are you?"_

This makes Chris laugh. "No, no. I really like her, um, dancing."

" _Fifteen hundred in cash it is. I’ll meet you at the front desk, 8 o’clock next week Thursday. Pleasure doing business with you!_ "

Chris hangs up, vibrating with anticipation, attempting to purge his nausea and fear with his favorite fall delicacy.  

 

\--

 

“So you’re screwing your boss?”

“Dammit, Chace, have you listened to a word I said?!”

Chace drops his British Lit textbook in his lap. “So you _want_ to screw your boss?”

Sebastian sighs, scrubbing viciously at the base of his bunny hutch with a wad of paper towels. “Basically.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I’ve wanted to fuck like seventy-five percent of my bosses.”

“That’s not really saying much. You wanna fuck seventy-five percent of the people you meet. This is getting so out of hand. I have no fucking control over myself!”

"It's harmless entertainment and gratification. What's the worst that can happen? He's not gonna find out what you do on the side, not unless you tell him," Chace reasons, snatching one of Sebastian's highlighters. The nice ones with the transparent tips.

"I'm not, I can promise you that. I just wish somehow we could have met under different circumstances, y’know? He’s everything I could want in a guy, everything I’ve never known I wanted, yadda yadda.” He bends to toss the towels and get fresh newspapers to line the bedding. “I mean, he's come to like a dozen of my performances. On _some_ level he’s attracted to me! Well, me, in a way. It’s incredible, when he looks at me up there,” Sebastian confesses.  “I think I’ve made everything worse since I've been more...hands on."

"Hands on?"

"I fellated his beer bottle onstage during _Ghost_." He burns with shame and lust at the memory.

Chace's brows rise. "Nice."

"And you don't think there's anything wrong with that?"

"Nope. And you've got the added bonus of him having zero suspicion you’re you.”

Sebastian sobers, knowing fully well Chris wouldn’t spare him a second glance if he were up onstage in his skinny jeans and Ramones tee, complete with his bedhead and occasional adult acne.

He gently sets Perry and Pumpkin back in their cuddle corner, sliding them a tuft of fresh alfalfa sprouts. He likes to watch them eat from the same vegetable because they always share, not exceeding what they need. It’s because they care for each other. Like when they groom each other, and sleep in one orange-grey ball of love. They’re partners. Made for each other. He gets really emotional about his rabbits.

Like all secrets, the natural outcome is revelation. Sebastian only has himself to blame when he receives an ecstatic bombardment from Cherry the following week in his dressing room.

“ _Doll!_ I’m so glad you’re here. You didn’t reply to my messages. I got worried you weren’t gonna show!”

Sebastian tightens his lengthy auburn wig into place. “Why, someone else cancel?”

“No, for your private performance! This generous man would not take no for an answer. You and I are taking home big bucks tonight!”

Sebastian’s immediately on edge. “I thought I wasn’t doing any more of those, Cherry,” he deadpans. He’s learned that ‘do not touch’ is a rule that some men—and women—have trouble obeying.

“He offered to pay ten times the money you earn for your weekly show! You’ve got some great fans, honey. Invite more of them to our club more often. Now don’t freak out, because Cherry has this _all_ under her control, but between you and me,” she leans into Sebastian’s space and hisses, “I wouldn’t have been able to afford the new marble counter for the bar I was eyeing if it weren’t for him!”

There’s only one fan as brazen and fiscally established to pull a stunt like this. He’s wrought with panic. “Cherry I—” The club’s new bar? They could really use one of those. “I really can’t, I really, really cannot do this dance.” It could be anybody but he’s sure it’s not just anybody.

Cherry hugs his bare shoulders. “Oh, I know you haven’t had a one-on-one in a good while. You’ll be a doll! Who knows, this one might be a repeat customer, hm? He’ll be here at eight. Love you,”

He glares at the clock on the wall. It ticks to a quarter ‘til eight. He most definitely did not get Cherry’s messages and would have put up more of a fight if he did! Shaking his ass onstage in front of a crowd, occasionally singling Chris out is one thing. A lap dance in the privacy of one of the commodious back rooms is a whole other game.

Sabrina lines her lips into a more feminine bow and contours the hell out of those cheekbones. This is going to be all kinds of terrifying and incredible.

It’s so fucking surreal sitting in the dim light of this room awaiting Sabrina’s presence, if she’ll even show. Cherry, the owner whom of which he received a strong handshake from, promised Sabrina will join him as he passed her the money without much thought. His flannel is making him sweat so he ties it around his tapered waist and rubs his palms along his denims. He finds a seat in the middle of the room on a loveseat. Directly in front of the centerpiece to the room, the floor to ceiling chrome pole that has one clear function.

Sabrina’s entrance to the room is unlike all the entrances she’s graced in the past. Skintight boots to her thighs, beautifully embroidered black and red lace panties with a matching corset, and flowing auburn hair.  But her body reflects shyness, nervousness, and anxiety, and Chris is stricken with guilt. He’s definitely made a mistake in shoving his money in these people’s faces to get what he wants, damned her feelings on the matter. He’s selfish so he absorbs the perfect picture in front of him, before jumping from his seat.

“God, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever made someone this uncomfortable in my entire life,” Chris belts, causing Sabrina’s eyes to bug out.

She clears her throat, not looking Chris in the eye. “No, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’m not uncomfortable. Just surprised to see you,” Sebastian croons in his sexy, sophisticated Sabrina voice. Sabrina might look and talk like Sabrina but she certainly doesn’t feel like Sabrina. She feels like Sebastian in Sabrina’s clothing, clumsy and awkward.

“I know this is, um, forward of me. But I had to—I mean, I wanted to see you. Dance.”

“You’ve already seen me dance. Several times, actually,” she accuses, smirking.

Chris blushes. “Yeah, well. I thought…” He can’t make himself finish, so he rubs the back of his neck instead.

Sabrina’s elegantly painted face bores onto Chris’s own fluttery stare, unblinking like a fine photograph.

“You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?”

Chris’s cheeks ignite, blushing like Sabrina just said the dirtiest remark. “Thanks.”

“So what happened to your hand?” Sabrina asks, toeing closer to see if there’s any recognition in Chris’s features.

Chris bows his head. “Car accident.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” he repeats.

Sabrina circles Chris, moving slowly about him at a good distance. She must be sizing him up. Or checking him out. “So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? You look like the type who’s into real girls.”

“Well, uh, I am. Even though you aren’t a real girl.” Sabrina’s expressive brow arches. “Or you are! Which is fine either way.”

“But you like boys, too?”

“Um—I’m not sure.”

“Boys that dress like girls?”

“Just you,” Chris answers, honest.

Grinning shyly, Sabrina thumbs on her iPod and connects the bluetooth to the nearby speaker. “You like cheesy pop music?”

“I like anything you like,” Chris says in an attempt to ease the tension.

It seems to work when Sabrina giggles. “I feel like that’s my line.”  

Chris gawks at her wit and doesn’t get a chance to reply when the music blares from every angle of the room. It’s most definitely not cheesy pop music. Chris swears he heard this on his Spotify before. Not something he’d expect to be on any pole dancing playlist.

Sebastian knows every sex move to pop music that electrifies crowds, and saves his indie rock routines for his own private practices, like this experimental one for Hozier’s _From Eden._ His selection is instinctual, and he begins Sabrina’s bends and twirls.

Chris doesn’t know what to do about his standing and staring awkwardly instead of sitting. Intimacy born as the fourth wall is abolished. He’s first time on Sabrina’s level, inside her space and mind as she sways and soars along her pole.

Sebastian’s flying on the seat of his panties for this act. Making one final pivot, Sabrina shuts all inhibition down and her body guides itself to turn. Every movement of her hips is achingly slow, until she hits the solidness of Chris. Impossibly close. Wig in face, back to chest, ass in crotch close.

She arches and brings her arms up backward to rake her claws through Chris’s hair. And Chris, all six feet and counting of him, whimpers and shamelessly digs his nose into Sabrina’s wig.

It feels so amazing to get his hands on Chris and be this close to him as Sabrina. Sebastian takes, barriers down, floodgates released.

“You’re the only one that gets to touch me,” Sabrina groans, softly and to herself Chris can barely make out the exclamation.

Chris is getting hard, and this time his hardness in the club is a big deal because Sabrina’s ass is _right_ there. But his attempt to give her space is thwarted when she pushes back into him even harder. They gyrate together, her dance now theirs. Gracelessly Sabrina grabs Chris’s good hand, and without resistance on his part, pulls it between her legs.

“Oh, Christ,” Chris husks, a desperate noise felt throughout Sebastian’s entire body. Right now there aren’t consequences or morals, only Chris’s body against his. His hand groping the hardness trying to escape from fragile lace, making thighs tremble and the toes of his boots connect clumsily as his knees buckle. Sebastian fails to contain an airy, slack-jawed moan.

Chris uses his free hand, crippled in its cast, to turn her head back towards him, gentle but unyielding. To say this is happening so fast is an understatement, but Chris goes with his heart and captures those luscious lips in a sealing kiss.

Sebastian can hardly form a thought, too wrapped up in Chris’s hands and perfect mouth. That thick tongue trying its damnedest to fuck his mouth. He gasps for breath and turns in Chris’s arms to face him dead on.

It isn’t until Sebastian looks into the depth of those earnest eyes, so open, that he knows he can’t keep this charade up any longer. It’s wrong and it’s deceitful. Sabrina pulls her partner in close and heart sinking, she tugs Chris in for a final kiss that was never supposed to be hers. Their song has long since been over.

Chris opens his eyes, taking in Sabrina’s furrowed brow and closed lids. Chris doesn’t know what to say. “I’m Chris.” Genius.

He can’t even get a laugh out, just a small smile that probably translates like a grimace. “I’m not who you think I am.” Heart in his throat, Sebastian approaches the end.

“It’s okay. I know.” Chris looks at him like he’s a little insane.

“You do?!”

“That you’re, like…” Chris swallows, fidgeting and looking down low to Sebastian’s tucked crotch. “I just felt your—”

Jesus Christ, Chris. “Oh hell, I know you know that! I’m talking about something a million times worse!”

Chris is at a loss.

“This was stupid. I shouldn’t even be here.” Sebastian’s not even bothering with his Sabrina voice. If only he could blame Chris for not recognizing him at this point. Sebastian marches for the door.

“Woah, wait a second, hey,” _Great tactic, crazy_ , Chris scolds himself. _Blockade the innocent dancer and victim of your stalking from leaving an enclosed space with you._ “Don’t go. I really wanna get to know you.”

“You don’t, I promise.”

“I do. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Sebastian’s eyes are welling with his frustration and shame, and the fact that this more than likely is the last time Chris will ever look at him like he wants him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Chris, frantic and drowning in an emotional cocktail, pulls Sebastian in for another kiss. Fierce with passion and want, assurance of more to come. “I know exactly what I’m asking for,” he murmurs. “I know you want it too.”

It’s pathetic that this might be one of the bravest moments of Sebastian’s young life. “I do. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

Sincere and gorgeous, Chris smiles. Tragic.

“I’m really sorry, Chris.” Sebastian carefully unpins his wig, and ruffles his real hair into its tussled style.

Chris’s eyes grow comically wide and his hand flies over his mouth.

Definitely all Sebastian needed to see.

Sebastian doesn’t have the concentration or concern to take off his makeup, and just barely manages pulling his jeans and Toms on before he races to his car. Grateful no one’s around to see him shuffle in the back lot with his clown-like face and half zipped duffle.  He does hold in the tears in until he peels out to his lonely apartment, far, far away from Chris and his fear and revulsion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sebastian would have been the person entrusted with helping Chris dismantle his office for his move to Washington, but Sebastian never showed up for work this morning. His cast is restricting, making the job tedious and difficult.

Sebastian, who singlehandedly turned his world upside down. How did goofy, innocent, caring Sebastian become his enigmatic, statuesque Sabrina? How did they become such a mainstay in his life, each in their own way?

He’d never have anticipated that Sabrina could be under Chris’s nose this entire time. And his dear friend Sebastian had withheld that truth, and now she is he and he was she this entire goddamn time and Chris knows not what to think.

_I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone._

Chris’s eyes water from the raw and confusing emotions stirring within, towards his friend, towards his crush. Allowance is denied for him to dwell on these feelings when his phone vibrates, and Emily’s smiling face illuminates the screen. The resound guilt rolls over him, the events of the past few months with Sabrina and the transpiration of last Thursday persist to be too much to bear.

He answers stiffly on the last ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

_“I know it’s not a good time for this, but I had to call you right away. I just finished a conference, and the office in London wants me to start next week.”_

“Shit.”

_“I know, this is crazy. I’m gonna start packing at soon as I get home.”_

Chris doesn’t respond, but Emily fills the blanks.

_“Do you think I’m making a mistake?”_

“No, of course not. I’m so, so proud of you. I just…” His heart stings something fierce. Perhaps it’s best he finishes cleaning his office by himself. “Em, I just want what’s best for you. But I thought—it’s just so soon. I’m—”

_“We already talked about this, Chris. I had to tell you right away, I’m sorry for doing this over the phone, Chris, I really am—”_

“I know, I know. You’re making the right decision,” Chris peers behind him to see if anyone is listening in, “but it’s one thing to talk about it and one thing to move out of the country away from your family in just a week.” He doesn’t mean to snap but his thoughts are racing faster than he can filter. Emily’s family, even if they aren’t together.

_“I’m sorry, Chris. I’ll see you at home. I’ll talk to your parents.”_

He doesn’t make it home that night.

Sebastian must not understand that even though it looks dark from his window, people can see quite clearly into his apartment window from the street parking below. Chris does his best not to stare. He’s never been good at keeping his eyes to himself.

From the pavement he can see Sebastian strip off his white tee, performing shirtless what appears to be elaborate stretches against a wall. All the grace and sophistication of Sabrina, but in her masculine Sebastian-state. Chris takes a deep breath, burying the nausea that surfaced since his recent phone call.

Sebastian glares at the sound from the door. That cannot possibly be the pizza guy, who’s never on time. But he grabs his wallet anyway, nearly bumping his shin on his displaced coffee table. One day he’s gonna have a huge house with a whole room reserved for practice.

“You’re early.”

The door swings wide open. Not the pizza guy.

“Expecting company?” Chris shuffles in his doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned.

Slamming the door would not be a good idea. “I thought you were the pizza man.” Now feeling exceptionally naked—literally, he’s only in yoga pants and his well-loved pair of spool heels he wears only in the comfort of his makeshift studio—Sebastian tries to shield himself with his door.

“Then may I come in?” What the fuck is he doing here at Sebastian’s apartment, unannounced and uninvited? “Or am I interrupting rehearsal?”

Sebastian’s brow purses. And glares.

“You should invest in some curtains. Blinds too.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he growls.

He didn’t invite Chris in but that doesn’t stop him from burling past with an expression that says ‘ _what are you gonna do about it?_ ’

“We missed you today.”

Pulling on his green flannel robe in an attempt towards modesty, Sebastian shies away. “I didn’t plan on returning.” Or ever facing Chris again.

“Why’s that?” Chris finds a seat on Sebastian’s small armchair, careful not to jostle the coats draped on its back. Sebastian mistakes his borderline neuroticism for enthusiasm and regards Chris as a threat, for the first time since knowing him.

“Chris, why did you come here?” he begs around a closing throat.

He leans so that his elbows press his knees. “Good question.”

Several excruciating moments of silence pass, save for the squealing of the lively rabbits in their hutch.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Ouch,” Sebastian snorts, before he could stop himself.

Chris gives him a small smirk. “I have. About that night,” he says gently, “that night that I drove you home.” Chris stands, prodding his encased arm. “Gotta be one of the worst nights of my life. I was so thankful to be alive, to see my family. But my first conscious thought was of you.” Tension in the room could only be cut with the sharpest of knives, but their eyes find each other’s in the midst of it. “Well, right after ‘oh fuck,’ but,” He grins a real one. Sebastian snorts again. Damn him.

“It would suck without you.” Chris shakes his head, as if the action alone could bring him clarity.

Sebastian remains silent. His lip is taking a considerable amount of abuse from his teeth.

 “I would prefer that you to return to the job. You’re an irreplaceable part of the team,” Chris says in place of his heart’s far-reaching feelings.

The job. Right. Sebastian’s robe pulls tighter.

“But I didn’t come here to tell you just _that_.” His eyes fly open, coming to realization.  “I came here so we could finish our dance.”

At Sebastian’s desperate, confused noise, Chris smirks. “Hey, I paid good money for a thirty minute show. Fifteen hundred bucks worth.”

“Fifteen hundred bucks?!”

Chris goes faintly scarlet. “I rarely splurge.”

The door rattles, and Chris bypasses Sebastian to open the door and stuff a bill from his wallet in the kid’s face. “Keep it. Have a good one.” From the scoff of disbelief, Chris didn’t give him exact change.

“Smells like pepperoni.” The box lands on the small dining table, atop several unopened slips of mail. “We eating before or after?”

“Thanks for getting that,” Sebastian mumbles. Not at all hungry anymore. Sebastian implores his voice to remain firm. “Chris, I don’t wanna dance right now.”

“You were just dancing.”

“Why are you doing this? Are you trying to humiliate me?” He is not gonna start crying. He’s not. Why is Chris being so cruel? He deserves it, surely, but certainly didn’t expect it from Boston’s golden boy. His mentor, his friend.

But Chris, the bastard, just plants his ass back on the armchair and gets comfortable. Chris looks at him expectantly. Like Sebastian is just gonna do whatever he says, for whatever reason he decides.

“Look, Chris. You proved your point.”

“I’d like that dance now.”

Sebastian’s genuinely pissed. Hasn’t anybody ever told him ‘no’ before?

Renewed, Sebastian shucks off his robe. He’s exhausted with worrying about what people think of him. Chris and his petulancy have knocked those barriers of his down. “You know, I’ve done worse things for money.”

Chris meets his eyes, squinting challengingly. 

Sebastian’s screaming inside to object, to shed light on exactly what Chris hopes to accomplish in demanding he dance for him. He can’t help feeling more exposed and vulnerable than when onstage in feminine lingerie.

Adrenalized, shameless, Chris rakes his gaze over Sebastian's pallor. Not thin, nor too muscular, built to hone his body's natural efficiency and grace.

Sebastian misses the stolen look, little heels clicking to the stand for his iPhone dock. One of Sebastian’s current favorites— _Roses_ —begins and the distinctive beat fills the space.

His piece suffers as he fights against his body’s need to quit while he’s behind. It’s mechanical. Disjointed. The worst part is that this whole mess is his entire fault for leading Chris on as Sabrina. For falling for Chris as Sebastian.

Incapable of resisting a peak, Sebastian casts his eyes at his audience.

Instead of the smug, triumphant expressiveness he expects, he finds Chris sullen, burdened, like Sebastian just told him his cat died. He hasn’t even made it halfway into the song and Chris is tearing up. Sebastian’s bewilderment bypasses his hurt.

Unable to keep up with the charade, Sebastian stops the music and squares his shoulders. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” He can’t make himself remain angry. He just doesn’t understand.

Chris scrubs his face with his good hand. “I’m sorry.” The first real words out of his mouth.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Chris continues, standing on heavy feet. “I just haven’t been feeling myself. She—” He’s cut off with another sob, and Sebastian is admittedly frightened.

“Chris, what is it?”

“You want me?” Chris implores, stepping close enough to touch. And he does just that, grasping Sebastian’s lean wrist. He’s the type of man that really believes in the connection of touch.

 “Chris, just tell me what you’re thinking. Please.” He doesn’t pull his wrist away, and he meets Chris’s eyes. He studies the watery redness of them, blinking down to his lips, normally faceted in a friendly manor, now sunken into a grimace.

Levelly, Chris begins. “Emily, she, uh. She’s leaving me I-I mean, I knew it was comin’, I just—” He breaks into another fit of sobs and lugs his arms tight around Sebastian’s. Instinctively, Sebastian returns his desperate embrace. Swallowing around another inevitable wave of disappointment and heartbreak.

Of course this emotionally turbid Chris has lost bearing on all sense and control, Sebastian reasons. He doesn’t really want to see Sebastian dance anymore. Chris is vulnerable because his real partner, whom he actually loves, wants, and cares for, has decided to end things.

Sebastian’s the closest warm body that can show him any semblance of comfort. That’s all he’ll ever be. He accepts his dismal fate and holds Chris tighter, content to support him through this mess. “It’s gonna be okay, Chris.”

His sobs fade, and his arms remain tight around his counterpart. Chris noses into Sebastian’s hair because he can, and ultimately, because he wants to. Sebastian smells like warmth and citrus shampoo.

“You want me.”

Sebastian pulls back to examine Chris. His eyelids cast low, accentuating the natural thickness of his lashes that most women would envy, including Sebastian himself. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he forces out. This isn’t about him.

Chris is looking at him, really looking, and Sebastian has no choice but to hold his gaze. “What if we want the same thing?”

Sebastian blinks rapidly. “We don’t.”

“I do. I know what I want.” The casted hand is surprisingly as dexterous as his fit one when he traps Sebastian’s clenched jaw between them. It’s then that Sebastian realizes neither of them has been in control tonight, instead ruled by their emotional tirades.

“You don’t. You want _her_.” Emily, Chris’s personal heartbreaker. If she truly cared for Chris, she’d have stayed with him throughout his race and his beginnings on the political circuit. He wants to tell Chris he can and will do better, but instead his arms limp uselessly at his sides.

Chris wets his lips, nodding. “I do, I want her.” The pads of Chris’s thumbs are impossibly gentle against his cheekbones, and it feels so amazing his eyes nearly slip shut. “But she’s you, she’s always been you. I just couldn’t see it before.”

“What?” Sebastian exasperates. Chris is seriously talking nonsense, more concerning now that he can’t sense a single whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“I was immediately drawn to you the moment we met. While you were onstage, and when you fell into my arms, I knew, I _knew_ you were special.”

Sebastian shoves Chris’s broad chest. “Chris! Sabrina isn’t real! She’s just an act! Will you snap out of this? She isn’t real. Emily? Your girlfriend, the girl that just dumped you? She’s real. You should probably go home and try winning her back already.” Distantly, his rabbits squeal at Sebastian’s sudden explosion. The punchline of his life rings again. He’s hurt Chris, he can tell. It’s written all over his face, but he’s not going to play his own wretched game any longer.

“She didn’t dump me. We’ve kind of not been together for several weeks. Em’s moving away and I’m happy for her. But I’ve always been selfish,” Chris laments.

Sebastian’s brow pinches in response to Chris’s confession. They’ve already broken up? He longs to know why but allows Chris to continue.

 “And I’m not delusional.” Chris fidgets with his cast. “I have these strong, these really strong feelings about—” he swallows, “About you, and I realize that they’ve always really been there, y’know? It’s just a lot for me to handle at the moment.”

Sebastian’s gut is fostering jittery, hyperactive butterflies, yet he remains unconvinced of Chris’s intentions. “But I’m not really _her,_ I’ve never really been her or ever will be. I’m always gonna be me.”

Chris gives him a genial smile. “I know,” he breathes, as if coming to an arduous decision. “I’m counting on it.”

Chris leans forward and presses a soft, whiskered kiss to his lips. Sebastian inhales, hating himself for staving the most beautiful moment of his days. “Chris, you said so yourself. You aren’t yourself right now. You’re emotionally vulnerable and—”

 _Holy shit, that tongue,_ Sebastian thinks as Chris steals another wetter kiss. Chris’s good hand sweeps from the small of his back to the mound of his ass and he stops thinking all together.

He forgets Chris is heartbroken, doesn’t consider any longer that he might be using Sebastian for personal release. As a rebound. He hasn’t got the patience to follow morals because Chris is such an amazing kisser—he knows from _experience_ , he realizes, and the thought makes him hard. And Chris is getting hard, too, which makes him even harder. He may like to dress and talk and dance like a girl but he’s undeniably a guy when it comes to the physicality of sex.

It’s like one of his fantasies—Chris handling him from behind while his nipples graze his crispness of Chris’s dress shirt, their crotches bumping deliciously through twin layers of fabric. Sebastian scrapes his short fingernails along Chris’s scalp, and Chris groans low into his mouth. Those slim hips grind into his own and he pulls back to whimper into their mixed air.

Chris is looking at him like he’s guilty of something, and before Sebastian can harp on what the issue is now, Chris pulls a possessive hand to Sebastian’s nape. It’s striking to Sebastian that even when Chris expresses apprehension, his body conforms to a natural dominance. “I’ve only really been with women,” he confesses.

Sebastian bites his lip. As he suspected. A wave of anticipation burns through him. “We don’t have to do anything,” Sebastian whispers, trying to not sound as manipulative as he feels.

“I want to—only if you want to, though,” he says, like he has to clarify.

Sebastian grins, a toothy one that Chris finds undoubtedly beautiful. Reminding Chris of the sweet genuine smiles Sabrina would share, and he’s baffled how he couldn’t piece the puzzle together sooner. Chris takes his hand through the open door of his bedroom.

Electrified, Sebastian clacks over to Chris, hotly plundering his waiting lips with his own. Moving him backwards, so he has no choice but to fall on his ass on Sebastian’s memory foam mattress. Sebastian tugs off his dress shirt, revealing his trim white tank defined by too broad shoulders and soft wisps of chest hair.

Experiencing one of those critical _this is really fucking happening_ moments, Sebastian kneels between his parted thighs. He gathers the fabric around Chris’s midsection, revealing his prize beneath. How does he find time to run for public office and maintain the physique of a body builder?

“God, you’re so hot,” Sebastian blurts, bringing out a deepening blush on the rises of Chris’s cheeks. Chris would retort if it weren’t for the swiftness in which Sebastian attacks the zipper of his designer slacks. He can’t fathom objecting.

“Chris, are you sure about this?” _Will this make you feel better?_

Chris nods, a staccato movement.

Of course Chris is hung. Sebastian would be more surprised if he wasn’t. He untucks Chris’s cock from its straining residence, into his waiting mouth. Grappling for Chris’s hand with his own to his hair, encouraging him to tug. This might be uncharted territory in Chris’s case, but God, he sure is a fast learner.

Chris groans when Sebastian opens his throat to accommodate for the length. He can feel Chris throbbing on his tongue, and he clumsily pulls out his own cock from his leggings. Either Chris is a really vocal in bed or Sebastian’s just that great at giving head. Or both. Definitely both.

He swallows around Chris, bobbing his head encouraging the vicious grip Chris has on his hair. His own cock leaks in turn, and he hums appreciatively at Chris’s ministrations.

“How the _fuck_ are you doing that,” Chris grunts, canting his hips into the velvet heaven of Sebastian’s mouth.

Sebastian pulls off with a wet smack. “Wanna fuck my face?” He grins devilishly, pecking an innocent kiss on the head of Chris’s cock.

The response Chris gives makes it apparent he’s never been asked that before, which is a total shame. Chris starts, and then changes his mind to nod vigorously. That’s the cue Sebastian needs. “C’mon, stand up. You’ll love this.”

Sebastian scurries against the base of his bed where Chris previously draped his legs. “Go on,” Sebastian encourages, shameless, “You can put it in me, on me, whatever you—” He doesn’t need to explain to Chris what ‘fuck my face’ means because Chris is more than capable of anchoring his cock to Sebastian’s bitten lips.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils, relishing being stuffed, choked, used for Chris’s pleasure, surrendering himself to the barrage of the most powerful man in his life. He doesn’t have an ounce of slick for his own erection, save for occasional beads of come, but somehow the rough, irritated movements of his hand are all the more gratifying.

Chris’s pistons get more erratic, imprecise, and Sebastian flicks his watery eyes to Chris’s face which remains to be gorgeous as ever from the low angle. He fucks again and again and again, increasing pressure on the roots of Sebastian’s since mussed hair. His darkened, lust addled gaze fixes on Sebastian, artfully taking his thrusts like he was made for it. And when he comes, it’s with a strangled cry and its deep enough that his come hits the farthest wall of Sebastian’s throat, and Sebastian’s own neglected erection throbs in sympathy.

Those powerful hips stutter to a halt, and Chris’s slips out, giving Sebastian a chance to catch his breath. Like dead weight Chris tips onto the bed again, leaving Sebastian to shuffle his heeled feet against the beige carpeting.

“How was it?” Sebastian toes off his heels and looms over Chris, who’s gaping at the ceiling.

“It was incredible.” Chris shifts his gaze to Sebastian. “You’re incredible.”

Sebastian beams. This is everything he could have possibly wanted.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Chris asks self-consciously.

“That’s never something you’ll need to worry about with me.” Sebastian smirks, and Chris chuckles, reeling on the implications of his response. Flicks those dazed eyes southward, sitting up to bring a palm to Sebastian’s peaking erection.

 _Oh, Christ._ “Chris, you don’t have to,” he says, fingers ready to tug off his leggings.

“Come over and lie down.” Chris doesn’t tell him to strip but Sebastian strips anyway. His own sizeable erection bobs as he gets comfortable, excited for the events to come.

They lie face to face, and Chris places a hand on Sebastian’s lightly haired thigh. He looks at Sebastian’s red mouth, and Sebastian answers his unasked question of ‘is it cool to kiss you if I just stuffed my dick there’ with a chaste peck to his lips. Chris starts petting around but not on his sex while kissing Sebastian’s neck—something he’s found works well with women. Good to know it’s working on Sebastian, too.

Chris, the token gay sex virgin, realizes there isn’t going to be much slick to get the— _jerking_ —going, because Sebastian does not have a vagina. He follows his instinct and pulls from the throbbing pulse of Sebastian’s neck, licks his own palm, and gives Sebastian’s erection an experimental tug. Angle’s different from manual stimulation he’s practiced but the mechanics are the same. And its god damned invigorating, forbidden like his first time all over again.

Sebastian gasps, keening against Chris as he tugs him to completion. The little mewls Sebastian fails to stifle make Chris’s cock throb, and in that moment he wishes he were experienced enough to jerk themselves off in tandem.

When Sebastian comes no more than a minute later, Chris starts in surprise, boring his eyes on Sebastian’s dark round ones. Relishing the pulse of a cock in his hand is a feeling he’d never considered gratifying before tonight.

“Wow,” Sebastian succumbs to blitheness after his orgasm. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

Smiling wide enough his eyes crinkle, Chris rests his sticky hand against his own bared hip. “Well, only after a stressful, lonely day at the office.”

This makes Sebastian giggle. “Congressman Evans watching RedTube? The American people would be shocked.”

“I’m more of a PornHub guy, actually.”

Sebastian’s head falls to his pillow, sporting a dopey grin. He’s afraid to close his eyes for too long in case this dream ends somehow. “Why don’t you stay the night?”

Chris stiffens.

He backtracks, pitying himself for his foolishness. “I mean, it’s already late, and you’re already naked. It just makes sense.” Somehow his eyes still find Chris’s flaccid dick, because he’s a terrible person and can’t focus on anything when there’s a naked man in his presence.

Chris sits up, nodding. “I’ll go get washed up,” he says, matter-of-factly like how someone would make dinner plans with a casual friend.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Chris. I was just offering.” He picks idly at his duvet, no longer confident and care-free.

Scrubbing his hands, Chris passes his reflection in the spotted mirror. Emily is expecting him tonight. He’d probably end up sleeping in one of the cold guest rooms anyway, and he’d rather not be alone right now. And Sebastian’s great company.

“I know. I want to, Seb,” He says, smile bleeding with sincerity from the conjoining bathroom. They exchange space like roommates, Sebastian toeing in after Chris finishes.

Sebastian walks back outside to the common area, grabbing two slices of near cold pizza. Gratefully, Chris takes one, folding it in half and chewing away the tip. Sebastian finishes his quickly, wiping his greasy fingers on an old shirt in his hamper.

“What did you mean when you said you’ve done worse things for money?” Chris asks, splitting the awkward silence. Chris purses his brow, as if he can read him like a book.

Sebastian swallows, flashing back to his handsy costars, STD tests, and his eighteen year old ass being busted open like a back of potato chips. “The night shift at a twenty-four hour McDonald’s drive through. It takes a toll on you,” he says instead, having never actually worked food service a day in his life.

Chris just laughs, sounding completely convinced. Thank god. Today was dramatic enough.

They don’t kiss goodnight but Chris invites him to rest half on his chest. Which is pretty amazing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris wakes up from the sound of a shower starting. The events of last night flood back to him in a flourish, and he smirks softly to himself into the plush of Sebastian’s citrus scented pillow.

It felt refreshing to not think, to not make meticulous plans or organize his thoughts and feelings for once. Chris stands and pads over to the sound of the shower.

“Mind if I take a leak?” he asks Sebastian through the translucent curtain.

“Go ahead,” Sebastian says after a beat, rinsing off his facial scrub.

Peeing next to Sebastian feels more normal than he could have thought. “So you got any plans today?”

“No, but I've got a paper due in a few days. I've been pushing that back.”

Chris nods a nod Sebastian can't see. “When do you graduate?”

“Oh, um, hopefully in the spring.”

“Wow, that's right around the corner.” Chris wouldn't normally wash his hands after his morning piss but he doesn't want Sebastian to think he's a slob. Especially after seeing how neat Sebastian is with his countless bottles of hair products, lotions, soaps, and bath bombs stacked in place.

“Yep.” The shower shuts off. “Can you pass me my towel?”

He's glad he washed his hands.

“I'll leave you to it, then,” Chris says, unnecessarily.

Should he cook him some breakfast? What does he like to eat for breakfast? Would that be too much of an imposition or would it be regarded as a peaceful gesture of gratitude?

Chris ventures to the common area, chuckling to himself in disbelief when he sees Sebastian’s organized shoe rack, stacked thickly with heels and boots. Some of which he hasn’t seen onstage but would very, very much like to.

He doesn’t get very far in his breakfast task because Sebastian is out of his room and in the kitchenette as Chris peers into the mostly empty fridge.

“I’ve got coffee and some oatmeal if you’d like. No milk, though,” Sebastian admits, a little embarrassed Chris caught him in between shopping trips. He’s got money for groceries, but hasn’t got the time to go get them.

Chris is about to suggest they go out for some greasy breakfasts to start their day when his phone chirps from the bedroom. He trots over, knowing who’s calling. He passes Sebastian with a glance of embarrassment. Noting how ethereal a post-shower haze on the young man makes his skin pale and youthful in its freshly cleaned state, contrasting his dark, intense features.

Five new messages, one missed call, all from Emily and his mom. When Chris zips up his pants and tugs his shirts back on, he emerges to toss Sebastian a quick, placating smile. “I had a really great time last night.”

Sebastian grins to his fullest. “Me too.”

“I’ll text you?” No time for anything more.

“Alright.”

Sebastian sees him to the door, parting with a final “See ya!” Like a dork. Chris paces down the hall with a small wave, not looking back. Before Sebastian can lock the deadbolt he hears the thumping of heavy shoes on the cement of this complex’s hall approaching his door. Chris looks like he’s outrun the devil within the minute span of time since his departure. Without explaining himself, he bends forward to peck a chaste kiss to Sebastian’s parted lips. “I don’t know when I can see you next but I promise nothing will change if you come back to the office.”

Sebastian’s heart heaves, feeling only slightly doomed to hell. “I can’t.” He’d gotten the gut feeling that this might have been a one night stand. He can’t take any more unattainable dreams.

Chris nods, solemn. Respecting Sebastian’s choice. “Just let me know when you can. If you can.”

Smiling softly, Sebastian leans in for a kiss of his own. “Let me know what happens with Emily.”

Chris does. Three weeks later. Is three weeks long enough to get over a girlfriend of three plus years?

Chris: _How’s school going?_    

Sebastian’s phone awakens and he’s got enough resolve to not squeal at Chris’s unexpected message. It’s been almost three weeks since they slept together. _It’s coming along,_ he replies. _How’s the office?_  

Chris: _Still havoc without you here. I wish you’d come back, Seb_

He’s been on a roll with the closing arguments of his paper, so his reply is a little late. _I’m sure it’s not that bad,_ he messages.

Chris: _Can I please see you tonight?_

The Keurig completes another spattering of coffee into Sebastian’s Billy Idol mug, and he forces himself to type the words eating at him. _Do you really want that? Were you two not able to work things out?_

Chris: _I told you here’s nothing to work out._ And a moment later: _So is that a no? I promise to be good :)_

Sebastian snorts. _I’m not your rebound girl._

Chris: _I know that._

_You really wanna see me?_ Sebastian replies.

Chris: _Can I take you to dinner?_

He bites his lip, butterflies of excitement stirring within. _I’d really like that_

Chris: _If I was there in thirty minutes would that be ok?_

_Wow, look at you. Sounds great to me, I’ll see you then! :)_ On second thought— _is it like nice dressy dinner? Or normal college student clothes dinner?_

Chris: _Normal is fine :) I’m sure you’ll look great no matter what._

Sebastian grins a thousand watts. That’s such a Chris thing to say. It may sound like a typical thing that anyone says to anyone else but Sebastian knows Chris and that is _such_ a Chris thing to say!

“What’re you grinning like an idiot about?” Lisa Evans floats through the hall with a shopping back full of shoes on her arm.

Chris swallows, tucking his phone into his jeans before his mother can peak over his shoulder. “Oh, just. A friend.”

“That’s not a smile you make when thinking about a friend,” Lisa elbows him.

 It’s only been a few short weeks since Emily said her goodbyes, his family aching with loss, yet blooming with pride at her advancement. Chris too felt relief that she finally can move on to her dream job. And the more selfish, secretive side of him wreaked excitement for what wonders more moments with Sebastian will entail now that his family will get off his back about getting married. But will the mischief, the surprises eventually lose their appeal as the reality of what emotional holes he’s began to dig for himself inevitably topple around him?

He really means it when he says he gets caught up in his own head.

Chris hails a cab to pick Sebastian up to take him to his favorite Italian place. He attempts to crack a joke about their accident but Chris can only feel the immense remorse having endangered Sebastian in the first place that the joke falls flat on his tongue.

On the bright side, Sebastian hasn’t stopped smiling since they got here.

“You gotta try the calamari, Seb.”

Sebastian grins wider at the little nickname. “Are there any other must-haves?”

“The calzone!” Chris all but yells, attracting some glances from other tables. Sebastian spots a few smirks from the older patrons, who must recognize Chris from his uplifting campaign ads.

Sebastian wonders how far they can make it together. Even if Chris wants him as a boyfriend— is he willing to shine a public light to his bisexual side? The media will likely paint him as the token gay Congressman. Is he even allowed to be gay in Washington? Sebastian swears there are at least a handful of queer politicians out and proud. Does Chris even _want_ to be one of them?

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sebastian tries.

Chris raises his brows questioningly in response, humming around his bite of deep dish.

“About Emily?”

Gone is the emotionally unstable man from those days ago. “Oh. Well, it was her choice to leave. And I wasn’t gonna force her or guilt her, in any way,” Chris reasons. “She’s doing what she loves. I’d be a bigger piece of shit making her stay,” he catches his eyes, “I know what you’re—I wasn’t just looking for someone to blow off steam with. The other night.”

Not exactly the confession of his undying love Sebastian would have liked, but it’s a step in the right direction. “Me neither.” Sebastian wants to hold his hand but in this public space, intimacy is dangerous.

“Have you …?” Chris starts, and then shakes his head to toss out the stupid question.

“Have I ever what?” Sebastian smirks.

Chris signs. “I was gonna ask if you’ve been with a lot of guys, but I decided that would be widely inappropriate. And rude of me. I wouldn’t even ask that too a girl so—” Chris stops to shake his head again at Sebastian’s incessant giggling.

“I haven’t really. Mostly flings. It never really interested me, you know? I mean, it's nice to have those people that you can be casual with.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Sebastian mumbles. “Like with my friend Chace,” he starts.

Chris hums, perking up at the mention of an unknown male name in the middle of a conversation about fuck buddies. “So you two are…?”

“Oh no. God, definitely not,” Sebastian laughs and Chris's concerned face. “Well we did mess around a lot freshmen year, but we decided we were better off as friends. But that doesn't stop him from asking awful, awful personal questions. To this day.”

“I do appreciate your honesty, Seb.” It feels better for Sebastian to get a few of these things off his chest, anyway. “So,” Chris begins, sipping his Corona. “Why dancing?”

“You’re asking about the dancing part and not the women’s clothing part?”

“Well I was gonna ease into that, but yeah.”

Sebastian shakes his head, all of this surreal. “I always liked performing. Acting, piano playing, dancing, ever since I was a little kid. But it wasn’t until I went to private school that I started, um, dressing up.”

Chris, the fetishist, listens closely and chews on his clump of calamari.

“Little stuff at first. The boys my age picked on me because of my accent so I hung out with the artistic girls.”

“Accent?”

“I wasn’t born here. My mom and I moved here from Romania by the time I was twelve.”

Chris leans back. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t know this!”

“That’s a good thing! That means my skills of disguise are masterful.”

“Understatement of the century,” Chris chuckles.

Giggling, Sebastian continues. “So yeah, my friends and I would sing and dance for each other, you know, silly stuff, until we got older and I spent more time in front of their makeup mirrors. And I just kind of fell into it.”

“And going to school for political science, that was just, obvious?” Chris retorts, playful.

“Well, exotic dancing probably isn’t gonna be as fun when I’m forty!”

Chris’s eyes twinkle. “I admire that.”

Flushing, again, Sebastian takes down the rest of his calzone. “You never told me you like to draw,” Sebastian calls him out on the discovery he made a few weeks back.

“I didn’t, did I? Picked it up in college.”

“I have no idea how you hone all these talents. And I haven’t even seen you go to the gym once, yet here you are!” Sebastian giggles. “You’re so statistically improbable that I still can’t believe you wanna be with me.”

Chris’s eyes crinkle in the corners, but Sebastian doesn’t miss the nervous swallow Chris involuntarily projects.  

They make it back to Sebastian's apartment, toting matching content looks. Sebastian pulls out one of his favorite movies: Scream 3.

“Why 3? Why not the original?” Chris inquires, eager to abolish any and all mystery behind the man.

“It's the perfect ending to the trilogy. Everything kind of falls into place. Besides, Syd is such a badass in this one.”

“You call her ‘Syd’?”

“Everyone calls her Syd!”

Flopping down on Sebastian's couch, Chris chuckles. “They don't, but it's adorable that you do.”

Sebastian swallows. Feeling all his nerves exposed. “Are we, like, dating?” he blurts out of nowhere. Because he’s childish and has to know.

Chris tugs apart his button up. “I'm not sure I can put a name to it yet? If that's alright?”

It's a good, honest answer. Sebastian appreciates it for what it is. Even if it wasn’t the answer he’s craving.

“I'm sorry I lied to you,” he admits. “About my alter ego,” he clarifies.  

Chris extends his arm. “C’mere,” he murmurs. Sebastian joins him, tugging himself tightly to his side.

“I see why you did it. And I forgive you. Look where we are now? It brought us together.”

This feels so easy, so _right._ Lying here with Chris, sharing body heat, watching his favorite movies and talking about his feelings. This moment is too perfect to be true.

They're not even half way through the movie when Sebastian leans over, kissing Chris's bearded cheek. Chris turns his head, meeting Sebastian halfway. They make out like a couple of hormonal teenagers on prom night.

Chris tugs him onto his lap. Another round of zealous kissing causes Sebastian to start whimpering. He wants a repeat of the other night so he kisses down Chris's chest as he slips onto the floor.

“Wait, Seb.”

Sebastian looks up, blue-grey eyes wide and questioning.

“I wanna do you. Show me how I can do that to you.”

“You do?” Oh crap. This is the part where Chris tries giving head for the first time but thinks it's gross and decides to end things!

“I do.”

“What if you don't like it?” he can't help but ask, barely keeping the desperation from his voice.

Chris stands them both up, palms gripping the small of Sebastian’s waist. He moves him to his feet with impossible strength, like Superman, Sebastian thinks. “I doubt that will be an issue.”

They cross over to Sebastian’s bedroom, Chris’s hands still around Sebastian’s waist. “It might be easier if I’m on the bed. And you can come up between my legs.” He figures Chris has experience eating out girls so he models the positioning off what he remembers works best from viewings of _The L Word_.

Sebastian tugs off his jeans and lies back on his pillows. Without breaking eye contact Chris crawls over him and gently peels off his tee shirt. It’s unbearably erotic how Chris’s crisp dress shirt and pants tantalize his bare skin. Chris tongues the lightly stubbled skin under his jaw, drawing a low moan from his throat.

“God, _yes_ ,” Sebastian groans.

It’s incredible how responsive Sebastian is as a lover. Chris trails downward, lapping at his flat chest and abdomen. He kisses lower, and lower, gracing each space of skin with his lips.

Without warning, he kisses the side of Sebastian’s erect cock. He tries for experimental few licks, daring himself to mouth the head. Sebastian rakes a hand through his hair, arching off the bed. “Oh, Chris, that feels so good.”

Chris experiments a bit more, trying to find the right pattern to draw more of those sexy noises from Sebastian. Licking, humming, sucking, careful not to graze him with his teeth. Moving his mouth as far down as it will let him, without gagging.

It’s no time at all and Sebastian is rapidly smacking Chris’s shoulder. “I’m gonna come,” he pants.

Chris moves his mouth off him with a pop, and Sebastian promptly stripes his chin and neck with his come, gasping then ducking his face into his arms with shame. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Chuckling, Chris dabs at his beard with his hand. “It’s alright, Seb. That was something else.”

“Something like what?” Sebastian braces himself.

“Watchin’ you come undone like that…just about set me off in my pants.”

“So it wasn’t horrible?”

Chris climbs back over him, looming commandingly over shivering, naked, post-orgasmic Sebastian. “It was,” he leans to kiss Sebastian’s forehead, “amazing.”

Sebastian flushes, grinning goldenly. “Can I get you to wait here for me?”

“You got another date?” Chris teases.

“Just give me five minutes!” he laughs. “And close your eyes.”

Chris licks his neck again. “Whatever you want.” He lets up, allowing Sebastian room to roll out from underneath him.

“Five minutes! I promise. And no peaking!” Sebastian giggles at Chris’s dramatic face plant between his pillows.

Sebastian shuffles to the bathroom, smearing on his smoky eye pencil and his extra voluminous mascara. He applies his favorite plum matte lipstick and some shimmering blush for good measure. He heads to his closet and slips on his white stockings—the ones with little bows on the sides that go up to his mid-thighs, and his red peep-toe pumps.

“Okay, Chris. You can look now.”

Chris turns over. “Jesus,” he curses, leaning back on his elbows. All his fantasies are coming true. “You gotta let me fuck you like that.”

Shuddering, Sebastian toes over to the bed, heels muffled on the carpeting. “You want to? Are you sure?” he asks through those candied lips.

All but ripping off his shirt and pants, Chris lunges and pulls Sebastian over his legs. “You gotta stop asking me that.” He palms his ass cheek roughly with his good hand, kneading the soft, unblemished skin. He’s too caught up in the moment to realize he doesn’t really know how to fuck him. Sebastian can guess as much. 

“The drawer. Right over there.”

Chris leans back to where Sebastian’s pointing, extricating a tube of lubricant and a condom. His fingers hit something cylindrical, and curiously he pulls out the toy—Sebastian’s vibrator.

Sebastian’s cheeks go hot. “I see you’ve met my boyfriend,” he says, but Chris doesn’t share his shame.

“You use this? On yourself?”

Sebastian nods. The piercing blue of his eyes is amplified by the makeup.

Chris leaks some of the lube onto two of his fingers. Draws them backward to where Sebastian can’t see, only feel. “Do you think about this?” Chris swallows, navigating uncharted territory.

Nodding hastily, Sebastian finds purchase on Chris’s impossible shoulders. The finger pushes forward between his cheeks and onto Sebastian’s hole.

Chris wiggles his finger deep, experimenting with the angle. The lube barely eases the vacuum tight friction. “Tell me what feels good.”

“ _More_ ,” Sebastian moans. “Curl it a bit— _ah_ , just like that.”

He adds another finger. Sebastian squirms, twisting in Chris’s lap. Chris adds a third finger. Purple lips form a sinful ‘o’.

“Is this good? Is this enough?” Chris asks, pulling the fingers in and out.

Sebastian nods, wordlessly lying on his stomach. Swallowing, and not remembering the last time he was this turned on, Chris sits on his knees to roll on the condom. Those dark eyes look back at his, blackened lashes fluttering when Chris pets his hands on his thighs and down his calves and ankles. Smooth under the luxurious nylon of his stockings. Hands spread his legs farther apart and Sebastian presents himself, back arched.

As a solid mass, Chris climbs behind Sebastian and he groans as he pushes into Sebastian’s hole. Tightness, hotness blinds him, and he bucks violently into the pliant body underneath him. Sebastian yelps, pushing backward into Chris. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes, I love it,” Sebastian grins and bites his lip. It’s painful but satisfying. Cock leaking onto his sheets, Sebastian rocks his hips into Chris. Chris doesn’t seem to be aware of how to aim his dick while topping but Sebastian’s fortunate enough to be a highly functioning bottom. And Chris is well endowed, and to Sebastian, size matters most.

Chris fucks him for as long as he can manage. Sebastian’s so impossibly tight and hot that he only manages several long thrusts. He seizes without warning and ejaculates into the condom, gasping into the side of Sebastian’s neck. “Fuck!”

Chris inadvertently assaults his prostate and Sebastian gasps, chasing that blissful spark.

“Oh god, that was too soon. I’m never that fast!” Chris is so embarrassed.

“It was perfect,” Sebastian murmurs. “Mmm. Don’t move just yet.”

Chris reaches for Sebastian’s renewed erection, desperate to feel Sebastian orgasm from inside of him. Tugging roughly, Sebastian spasms and paints Chris’s fingers with his come. Chris holds him as tightly as he can, nipping at Sebastian’s neck through his channel’s faint flutters.

“I swear I’m not a minute-man,” Chris implores, once Sebastian settles. “It’s just—the tights, everything. Couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m flattered,” Sebastian smirks, content. Chris could have ejaculated onto a broom handle and Sebastian would still find it sexy.

Later that night, Sebastian puts his toothbrush back in its case. Chris is already in bed and Sebastian resists pinching himself for fear that this is a dream.

“You coming, Seb?”

His ass pinches, confirming reality. “Sure am.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scream 3 is actually my girlfriend's favorite movie :) and we had a similar banter about it when we first started dating. (but we didn't dance around the whole 'are we dating' thing like these fools!! I asked her if she wanted to be my girlfriend like after date 3 lmao)


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

On the flight down to Washington, Chris eagerly awaits landing, going over his notes on his tablet. Grateful to have his cast taken off right before his first session. His thoughts, as usual, drift to Sebastian. Probably planning out his final course load. They were fortunate to spend New Year's Eve with Chris’s friends and family. Even Emily texted him a picture of some spectacular party with all her new work friends on a rooftop in London.

He remembers how Sebastian smiled sadly watching Chris kiss his assistant Elizabeth on her cheek at midnight. Luckily Mackie swept in and kissed Seb full on the mouth, bringing out that sexy blush that made Chris want to jump him in the office’s single-stall bathroom.

He feels guilty for hiding what they are. He just doesn’t know exactly, what they are. Sebastian’s a student, and returned to his employment shortly after their second—first?—date. He’s young and fun where Chris older and more likely to settle down with a wife and kids. Or husband and kids! But that’s a whole other can of worms he can’t even consider opening at this point in time.

The plane lands and Chris turns his cell off airplane mode. Instantly receiving a message from Sebastian: _Good luck today! :)_

Chris smiles to himself, making a mental note to take a nice contact photo picture for Seb next time he sees him. An idea dawns on him, so he promptly replies with: _thanks seb. Could you send me a picture please?_

Seconds later he receives an extremely flattering photo of Sebastian: smirking at the camera with his orange rabbit clumped helplessly against his face.

_Adorable!!!!_ he replies, adding several crying emojis. He immediately adds the picture to Seb’s contact information.

The next morning Chris finds himself in the thick of his first session. Incumbents welcome the new crowd, beginning with the Speaker of the House, Congressman Downey, a Republican from California. Chris had the pleasure of meeting the widely loved eccentric congressman, who frequently jokes about what detriment the country would face if the two of them ran against each other for the presidential seat.

Chris muses, knowing full well that if America knew of his sexual habits that he’s sooner have breakfast on the Moon than make it so far as a spitting distance in a presidential election.

The next several days go by in a monotonous romp of heated discussion and electronic buzzing of the ballot, but Chris still can’t get over the fact that he’s here, making a difference. He’s elected to sit on a standing committee after the second day, meaning his trips to Washington will likely be at most two weeks out of the month. That night he solidifies his Washington housing, a homely townhouse five miles from the city.

 Chris pulls his rental onto the freeway, struggling through rush hour traffic—another thing all his money can’t seem to fix.

_“Damn! Already?!”_ Mackie jeers from the car’s bluetooth speakers _. “When’s the housewarming party?”_

 “Not sure I’ve been planning on one.”

_“Well you gotta give me a heads up, know what I'm sayin’? Your ass left me behind to reorganize the office, so I’m gonna need advanced notice!”_

Chris chuckles. “I told you I'm heading back up there in two weeks to finish up. How's the team?”

_“Lizzie actually smiles more! You annoy her like nobody's business.”_

“I do, don't I?”

_“You sure do. She has this nickname for you and it's starting to stick.”_

“Oh god, do I wanna know?”

_“It's ‘Dad’.”_

“Are you serious?” he groans in playful dismay. Dad?! He's not old enough to be her dad! She's Sebastian's age, he's certain. And there's no way Sebastian thinks he's that old. Unless he gets off on it somehow? That would probably be a strange question to ask.

The weeks pass eventfully, and he and Sebastian text nonstop. About the session, the other politicians, the new season of _Law and Order SVU_. About Sebastian's last semester and his job at the club.

Minutes before tucking himself into bed, Chris receives a text from Sebastian: _I really really miss you_

Chris’s chest constricts. _I'll be back soon, seb. Are you in bed?_

Sebastian's reply is instantaneous. _Yes. Freezing my ass off without my big warm furnace next to me ;(_

Chris swallows. _If I was there I'd keep you warm. Among other things._

_Like whay?_ Sebastian sends, then a second later: * _what_

Smirking and feeling young, Chris messages: _I'd trail my hands down your sides and spread your legs apart_

Sebastian replies: _oh god, Chris I need you._ Then: _is it okay to tell you I’m touching myself?_

Chris reaches in his boxers for his dick, picturing Sebastian lying on his back, eyes demure and heated, hand around his cock. _Think of me there with my mouth on you_

Daring, Chris adds: _and I'd stick my fingers in you. Then kiss you lower. Stick my tongue in you and taste you from the inside_

_Fuck Chris,_ Sebastian replies a few minutes later. _I just came so hard_

Chris groans softly into the dim of his hotel room. With a few final expert tugs, Chris comes on thoughts of licking Sebastian’s hole. Though he's never gone that route with women, with Sebastian the fantasy is unbearably erotic. _Me too. Can't wait to do that all for real_

_I'll be thinking about that all damn day tomorrow,_ Sebastian replies.

_So will I,_ Chris messages back. _You promise to be a good boy for me until I get back?_

Hours away, Sebastian claps his hand over his mouth at Chris's text. _Yes yes I promise,_ he manages, dick twitching under his duvet.

Chris wakes five minutes before his alarm and his immediate thought is how happy he's gonna be to see Sebastian's smiling face again. He catches the first flight to Boston without telling anyone he's back in town.

He decides to surprise Sebastian, whom he knows is performing at _Angelo’s_ tonight. He pays the entry fee and opts to stand at the back of the main stage room.

Chris is just in time to see Sebastian's last act. Sabrina’s donning her auburn wig, waist clinched in a tight backless white dress, fake breasts, legs encased in shimmery nude nylons and garters, heels black and delicate.

Sebastian eyes widen when they land on him, smiling brightly. Chris smirks, eager to get his hands on Sebastian as soon as humanly possible. Sabrina's dance finishes and she curtsies, flashing her black panties at the crowd. He hurries off the stage, winking at Chris before disappearing. Almost a minute later Chris receives a text: _omg meet me at the back door!!_

Chris pulls his car up to the back and the door cracks open, spilling light onto the gravel outside. He's still in his costume. He runs over, heels and all, into Chris who has barely gotten out of his car.

“You're back early! I missed you so much,” he wails, wrapping Chris in a fierce embrace.

Chris hugs back. Now that he's with Sebastian again his heart aches with relief. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Let's get the fuck out of here.” Sebastian already has his duffel on his arm when he’s fishing for his car keys.

“What about your…” Chris trails off, eying his bulging breasts.

Sebastian smirks, challenging. “I thought you might wanna do it while I'm like this?”

“Shit. Let's go. We'll get your car tomorrow.” Chris manhandles Sebastian into his passenger seat.

Sebastian giggles giddily, before slapping his hand on his leg. “Oh crap, Chris, I can't walk into my apartment complex like this!” Sebastian groans in realization. People are so nosey these days if anyone sees them they’ll think he’s got a double life as a hooker!

Chris gets in the driver's seat. “I have an idea.” Chris freezes, fingers waiting to press the ignition button.

This is the first time he's driving Sebastian in his car since their accident.

“Is something wrong Chris?” he asks, sensing discomfort.

Chris can only look at him helplessly, swallowing. Understanding dawns on Sebastian when the guilt in Chris's eyes carry back those memories. “Hey. It's okay,” he murmurs, palming Chris's knee with his mauve lacquered nails.

He leans over, pecking a kiss to Chris's cheek. The action is innocent, comforting, and Chris exhales. He puts the car into gear, determined not to let his guilt ruin their night.

They make it to his estate safely.

“Chris, doesn't like half your family live here?” Sebastian asks warily.

“Yep, but no one goes to the boathouse. There's a small bedroom in there. No one will hear us,” he grins devilishly. Chris turns his headlights off so as to not give them away.

It smells like wood and grass after a fresh rain, and the breeze over the lake freshens his skin, Sebastian’s heart pounds in his ribcage as he soaks in the romantic setting.

Chris pulls the shades before turning on the light. Luckily, the bed is clean and presentable. He turns around to Sebastian, kissing his painted lips fully.

“You got some stuff?” Sebastian mumbles and Chris snorts, pulling out lube and condoms from his pocket. “Wow. Bet you keep that on you crossing state lines,” Sebastian laughs.

Gentle fingers tug Sebastian's hair from his shoulder, and Chris mouths wet kisses to the collarbone there. “I couldn't stop thinking about you,” Chris whispers.

Sebastian slips his hands to Chris's belt, eager to get his work clothes off. When Chris is standing there with his lightly haired chest and his boxers, he reaches under Sebastian's dress for his panties. Peeling them off down his knees and past his heels. Sebastian's sweating more than he would without the wig but wouldn't give up this fantasy for anything.

Chris is licking his jaw, and Sebastian moans. “Y-you wanna taste me?” Sebastian you attempts his sultry feminine Sabrina voice. “Wanna make me all wet for you?”

The fear that he's gone too far, that Chris will think that he's perverted or strange, melts away when Chris growls all teeth into his neck. “Gonna make you _dripping_.”

Whimpering, Sebastian pushes his tongue deep past Chris’s lips with finality and grabs one of Chris’s hands to feel the smooth flesh of his ass. Chris pulls back to look Sebastian in his false lashed eyes. He spins him around by his hips. “Get on the bed,” Chris orders, trailing a dry finger between his cheeks.

It’s obscene how Sebastian braces himself on the lone twin bed: on all fours with his bare ass peaking from the frill of his dress, heeled toes pointing decadently, cock heavy and hanging untouched between stockinged thighs.

Chris’s hands are firm as they spread Sebastian’s ass and the skin rippling his spine glistens with a fine sheen. If you asked Chris a year ago if he considered eating ass to be one of the finer things in life, he’s have laughed, blushed, or puked. Chris groans deep in his chest as his tongue tantalizes the fine furl of Sebastian’s hole. He laps again, and again, and Sebastian moans, fucking backwards into Chris’s face.

“Chris, _God_.” Sebastian trembles, dropping flat onto his forearms. Chris tongues downward onto the distended skin of his perineum and to the soft skin of his balls.

“You’re mine,” Chris proclaims, unprompted.

“Yes, _yours_ , Chris. Make me wetter, baby, please.”

Chris fucks him with his tongue and Sebastian reaches backwards with his mauve lacquered hand to pet the hairs on the back of Chris’s head.

Sebastian doesn’t know how long it is before he finds himself on his back, thighs folded to his chest. Pulling his legs over his shoulders because he can, Chris lines himself up with Sebastian’s entrance. Sebastian’s strength is in his compact flexibility, which he uses to his advantage. He reaches with his acrylic nailed hands to grip Chris’s hips while being fucked into a pretzel.

One of his heels slip off with the force of Chris’s relentless fucks. He hits that spot in him and Sebastian yelps. Smirking, Chris hits it again, and again, and again, and when Sebastian rakes his fingernails over the globes of Chris’s ass Chris only fucks him harder.

Chris is determined not to come prematurely, so he decides to draw things out a bit. “I want you on top of me. Can you do that for me?” Chris murmurs.

Sebastian’s thick lashes flutter as he nods, tugging the auburn hair from his eyes. Chris looks intently at Sebastian’s body’s reaction to Chris pulling out of him mid-fuck. His hole shrinks from its widened state, making Chris burn with the desire to eat him out again.

They switch positions. Sebastian kicks off his other heel and tugs his dress up, erection peaking from the frill of the hem obscenely. Mounting Chris’s thighs, Sebastian sinks backwards onto his cock again, allowing his weight to take nearly every last inch.

Chris groans as Sebastian bounces on his cock with those powerful legs. He brings his hands to Sebastian’s trim waist, and higher to Sabrina’s fake breasts. “Yes, touch me,” Sebastian gasps, placing his hands over Chris’s. Relishing the awe and pleasure gracing Chris’s features, attention all on him.

Unable to help himself, Chris fucks upwards into Sebastian, whose eyes bogle in surprise when Chris presses deeper than he’s been all night. Experimentally Chris whacks a hand onto the sensitive flesh of Sebastian’s spread ass. Sebastian topples forward, coming stripes onto Chris’s stomach without touching his dick. “Fuck!” he pants.

“Oh, fuck,” Chris agrees, bucking into his heat, finally allowing himself release. They breathe together, overheated and sated.

“Mmm,” Sebastian hums, carding his fingers through Chris’s hair. “That was so fucking hot.”

Chris squeezes Sebastian’s thighs, still immaculately encased in satin. “I really wanna kiss you but I don’t know if I should. Because of when I…” he trails off.

Snickering, Sebastian ruffles his hair some more. “So you can eat my ass but you can’t physically say the words?”

Palming Sebastian’s jaw, Chris tugs him in for a kiss. Sebastian moans low in his chest at the taste of himself on Chris. He pulls them apart with a soft pop. “Is there a restroom around here? Gotta take a leak.”

“It’s on the other side of the building. You have to walk around the back.”

“Really?” Sebastian pouts.

“I can walk out with you if you like,” Chris offers.

Sebastian pulls off of his limp cock, hoping his ass doesn’t produce any embarrassing noises in the process. “I can manage. ‘sides, you’d have to get dressed and nobody wants that.”

Tossing the condom in a discrete waste bin, Chris tucks himself under the covers. “Out and to the left, Seb.”

He unclips his wig that’s gonna need cleaning, unmatting his own short hair. Freshly cut as of last week. Sebastian makes it too the restroom without incident in his heels and fake breasts, bracing against the cold of the uninsulated room.

Chris grins when he comes back without his false eyelashes and with most of his makeup gone. “Hey.” Chris sits up. “You cut your hair.”

Sebastian blushes, peeling off his costume. “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty to grab onto.”

And Sebastian was right about that. They end up fucking again, and this time Sebastian insists that he wants it harder. With more spanking.

Chris sleeps that night holding Sebastian’s waist tightly. His heart throttles behind his ribs but no longer is it due to exertion of athletic sex. He synchronizes his breath with Sebastian’s, squeezing him tighter.

The faint hum from a lawn mower lulls Sebastian out of his slumber. Chris is a heavy sleeper, so Sebastian resorts to tugging on his shoulder repeatedly to wake him. “Chris. Your lawn care guy is outside.”

“We don't have a lawn guy during the winter,” Chris mumbles, pulling the pillow over his head.

Sebastian peaks through the curtains, squinting at the figure on the riding mower. “Then who's that? He's cute.”

With that, Chris sits up to glare at whoever is catching Sebastian's eye. Chris ducks away from the window when the man he knows all too well waves at him.

“Dammit. That's Scott.”

“Your brother?” Sebastian asks, smirking back through the curtains. “What's he doing mowing the lawn?”

“He never mows the lawn. He just knew that I was back here with someone and wanted to be nosy.”

“So this is like your sex shack? Is there even a boat in here?”

“Sometimes there’s a boat in here! I’m gonna go deal with that asshole.” Shuffling back into his slacks, Chris shakes his head. “Please don’t go outside. No matter what you hear.”

Now Sebastian’s worried but that doesn’t stop Chris.

The mower cuts off as soon as the boathouse door cracks open. “What the hell are you doing?” Chris accuses.

Scott tucks his sunglasses away. “What are _you_ doing?”

Chris ignores him. “What do you call mowing the lawn at eight in the morning?”

“Some of us still have to do chores!” Scott scoffs, clearly lying.  “You’re the one that’s been snooping around all secretive, man. Dad’s noticed. Mom doesn’t wanna notice.”

“What I do in my free time is nobody’s business but my own.”

“Don’t you mean ‘who’ you do?” Scott counters.

Chris shakes his head in disbelief of his brother’s immaturity.

“Look, if you wanted to be discreet, you should’ve gotten a hotel room. ‘s all I’m saying.”

There’s no reason why Chris can’t get his own place in Boston, and times like these he wishes he had a long time ago. He’s always been close to his family. Sometimes too close. Like now. “Just get out of here, would ya?”

“And miss your walk of shame?” Scott grins.

“Please?” he implores, forthright.

“C’mon. I’m your brother. You can trust me with these types of things! Is she young, is that it?”

“Fuck off, Scott!” Chris marches back into the boathouse, and Sebastian meets him with a twin look of concern.

“Isn’t your brother gay?” Sebastian asks, softly breaking the silence as he dresses into his spare hoody and jeans.

Chris looks up, buttoning his dress shirt. No longer floating about in his fantasy land where actions have no consequences. “That doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Being with Sebastian in their private microcosm is one thing. Having his private life plastered everywhere to his family and to the media is another.

“But maybe he’d understand?” When Chris doesn’t answer, Sebastian swallows thickly and continues. “I know that you haven’t exactly wanted to be official and out with our,” he hesitates, “relationship. And I get it. But maybe, at least your family could know.” Has Sebastian grossly overestimated Chris’s feelings for him?

“I’m gonna tell them, Seb. Being with you—I just fell into you so easily. It was like nothing else mattered. I thought I could have both, y’know?”

Sebastian’s dressed now. His blood ice in his veins in anticipation for what Chris is about to confess.

“But now I know I can have both.” Chris palms Sebastian’s waist, pulling him close. “I can have both you and the seat. It’s just gonna take me some time. I can’t come out right away.”

“Chris.” His heart leaps. “I’m with you. Whatever you decide, I want it to be your choice.”

Grinning madly, Chris kisses Sebastian on his cheek. “Let’s go get some pancakes.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Is your brother still out there?”

One look at the barefaced hope in Sebastian’s blue eyes and Chris feels as though he can take on a whole horde of nosy family members and friends. “Don’t care anymore.”

Sure enough, Scott is tending to the nearest flowerbed with a weeding tool when Chris walks out with Sebastian trailing after.

Scott abandons his gardening. “Dude! Chris!” Scott shouts. “Are you kidding me?”

Chris ignores him, helping Sebastian into his car.

“Good morning, Scott,” Sebastian greets shyly.

“I’m personally offended,” Scott’s hands meet his hips in contempt. “You didn’t think you could trust me with your gay love affair secret? I’m like, the king of gay love affairs.”

“None of your business,” Chris reminds him. He pulls the car into gear, leaving Scott to pull more imaginary weeds in his dust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You don't need to remove your shoes, Seb. It's not like at the airport,” Chris says. Sebastian blushes at the security guard and sticks his heel back in his Sperrys. Sebastian's never been to a government building of this stature. Of course he finds some way to embarrass himself before he walks in the door.

Chris guides him through the halls of the south wing, past the bathrooms and to the main chamber.

“Is this where you meet with the other members of the House every day?” Sebastian asks, eager like a schoolboy on a field trip.

“No, but this is where they used to. I think it was retired in like the eighteen hundreds?  It's normally open to the public. But I think it's closed for now because of the construction…”

Sebastian is too caught up in the monumental architecture to listen to Chris's words. From the mahogany fixtures and the velvet chairs, the lavish pillars and the elaborate podiums. All the priceless paintings and timeless inscriptions dwarf him in his Sperry shoes. Grand views for politicians with grand lives. He feels hopelessly out of place once more.

“This is all spectacular, Chris,” Sebastian says. “Where do you get off spending all your free time with me?”

Chris meets his eyes, his face open and sincere. “You know I can't get enough of you,” he starts, stepping closer. “What makes you say that, anyway?”

He backs away from Sebastian when a crowd in the hall gets a little too loud for comfort. Sebastian smiles a somber smile. Understanding that they can't be close like he'd like to.

“Come on.” Chris has an idea. “I'll show you the session hall. Tourists aren't allowed there.”

Grinning, Sebastian allows himself to be led. Chris can't resist a palm to his lower back, guiding Sebastian through the checkpoints.

It's not long before Chris opens half of the double doors to the main house chambers.

“Now this is where the magic happens.” Chris presents his arms above to the set of podiums and desks that stripe across the theater.

“This is so cool,” whispers Sebastian.  

“I could see you here one day with me,” Chris says, gripping the back of Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastian sighs happily and leans into Chris's touch. “I'm already with you,” he diverts the comment. “I'm where I wanna be.” He's not, not really. He wants to be worthy of a well achieved and noble man like Chris.

Eyes bright, Chris leads Sebastian to the closest hard surface, which happens to be an adorned pillar. He pokes his nose in Sebastian's cheek. “I'm where I wanna be, too,” Chris murmurs, grazing his lips on Sebastian's smooth jaw.

Sebastian is obscenely comfortable with Chris tonguing his ear lobe in the middle of the United States House of Representatives session chambers.

A scuffle in the hall causes Sebastian to gasp, patting Chris's shoulder to let up. “You don't think anyone's gonna see us?” he wonders, all dark and dilated eyes.

“Nobody makes it down here on a Saturday, Seb.” Chris continues with his necking.

“I hope you’re right.” Sebastian lets himself be kissed.

“You know,” Chris says between kisses, “I meant it when I said I wanted you here with me. I’m planning on staying put here to lessen the commute. My place here has plenty of room for two. Maybe after you graduate, who knows? You could be my personal assistant.”

Sebastian wraps his arms around Chris’s neck, embracing him with all his might. “I’d love that.”

Grinning, Chris holds him close against his chest.

When they get to Chris’s townhouse they make love with their socks still on. Chris doesn’t wanna part with Sebastian even though he knows he’ll be back in Boston at the end of the month.

Chris is in the shower when Sebastian accidentally reads one of his texts that blinks awake his phone screen. Emily: _Hope everything’s going well. Miss you!!!!_

Sebastian pulls Chris’s brand new cover over his shoulders, movement releasing clouds of whatever luxurious scented detergent in the seams. Chris told him he and Emily were over. Long since over. He wouldn’t lie to him. Would he?

Chris just needs more time to come out to his family, and the public, which is why Sebastian hasn’t pressed Chris about defining their relationship. In Sebastian’s mind they go to events together as a couple and not as colleagues, and Chris’s family greets him with open arms and constantly pesters them about wedding dates. But that’s just in his mind. Chris doesn’t make a habit of talking about his feelings.

“Hey man, you seen my razor?” Chris shouts from his bathroom. Chris is his only semi-boyfriend that has ever still ‘hey man’ed him after weeks of hooking up and meaningful conversations in the dark. Even though Chris invited him to live with him here he still feels like a side piece.

Especially after snooping and reading Emily’s text. Sebastian’s never had an ex text him they miss him. Maybe Chace, but they only ever fooled around before deciding they were better off as friends.

Sebastian taps the door open, breathing in the steam. “You can use mine, if you want.” He passes Chris one of his plastic razors. It by no means is the cheap kind but Chris’s is one of those expensive electric ones that is of course way better than his Target bought one.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Chris says. Sebastian knows he’s being his usual polite self.

Chris emerges ten minutes later, dabbing at his freshly shaved face with a hand towel. “Haven’t cut myself shaving since I was in high school,” Chris snorts.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier,” Sebastian grins, ogling at his gorgeous lover. Fuck buddy. “It was probably my fault. I must have forgotten to change the blades. Believe it or not that razor gets me clean shaven everywhere. And I mean everywhere.”

“I believe you,” Chris murmurs, looking like he shaved years off his face along with his beard. “You ready for bed?” he asks, petting Sebastian’s stubbled thigh, implying he has no interest in sleep just yet.

 

 

\--

 

 

Sebastian wakes to Perry and Pumpkin shaking their cage, eager for their morning exercise. “’m comin’ guys,” he mumbles. Happily, they squeal as their owner comes to lift the door and place them on the floor. “No chewing on the rugs. Promise?” he orders to their twin uncomprehending looks.

He oversees them fondly as he makes his ritual coffee. This morning he’s not in any rush to be somewhere so he settles for his finely ground espresso blend and his french press, using his stovetop for his kettle and a small pot to steam milk. Latte in hand, he sits on his small sofa, flicking his iphone on. Disruptively he’s bombarded with several notifications from his facebook, his texts and missed phone calls.

He clicks the first one, an alarming “DUDE YOURE TRENDING” from Chace. What the fuck?

Paling, he scrolls through his messages. Perry sniffs at a large spot of milk that dropped onto the kitchen floor, and Sebastian is too distracted by the transpiration of events described by Chace and Ronnie.

“Oh fuck,” is all Sebastian can muster when he clicks on the CNN link supplied my Chace titled: _Congressman from Massachusetts Caught on Camera with Mysterious Young Man_

Sebastian clicks play on the video and holds his breath.

_“Recently a video surfaced from the United States Capitol Building of what appears to be the newly elected Congressman Evans from Boston, Massachusetts,”_ inflects the reporter on the screen, “ _in an inappropriate public display of affection with a young man, without shame or decency, in the place America turns bills into law. While the leak of the security feed remains anonymous, they claim that ‘secrecy and moral deviancy is not an American value, and neither is disrespect for the legislative foundation of this country.’ While other sources say the ease to how fast leaking of security footage from the non-active periods of Congress is a more pressing issue, America still waits for a response from the staff of Congressman E—”_

Sebastian swipes away the page, and begins scrolling through his messages, the ridiculousness of this all engulfing him through the floor.

Chace: _Dude_ , and the next message: _dude wake up,_ and the next: _someone Snowdened you and your boyfriend what the fuck?!?!??!?_

And from Ronnie: _tell me I’m crazy, is this you and ball cap guy?? I’m definitely crazy._ Sebastian foolishly follows her link to some conglomerate news site. This one’s an article with the security video from his and Chris’s hot make out session embedded in the text. What the ever-loving fuck is happening. And Chace was right, this mess is trending on Facebook, Twitter and even on the stupid Yahoo news that he still uses. And he doesn’t even have pants on yet.

He hasn’t gotten any messages from Chris, and seeing that it’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, Sebastian is overwrought with concern. He dials him instead of their usual texting. The phone cuts to Chris’s voicemail on the second ring.

Sebastian doesn’t want to know if that was Chris’s doing. He leaves a message anyway, wishing they could go back to the Patriots game or eating french toast, back to when Chris was hopeful and unsullied by labels and attacks on his personal life. “Hey Chris,” he chokes, “please call me as soon as you get this. Just talk to me. I—” he can’t say that. They don’t say those words to each other. “Just hang in there. Let me know if I can see you in person. I’m so sorry for everything,” he says guiltily. “Bye.”

He texts Chace a second later. _I swear to fucking god if you tell anyone that’s me I’ll murder you._

Chris plays Sebastian’s voicemail four times before calling Mackie, because Mackie knows what to do and always has his best interests at heart. _“Be cool, man. Be cool. It’s all gonna work out_ ,” Anthony assures him over his car’s bluetooth. _“If you’re heading to the office, you should stay away.”_ he says, referring to the official representative office space he has in downtown Boston. “ _Reporters are already flagging down the day crew.”_

“Shit,” Chris curses, the consequences of his actions scorching his psyche. “Can we meet at my place?”

_“The big ass house where all your relatives live?”_

“They need to be a part of this too. I’m done lying to them. And to everyone.” Chris grips the wheel attempting to control his breathing. He’d already cancelled his flight, opting to drive back to Boston by car to avoid any reporters and unsubtly taken smart phone photos at the airport.

_“You got it, boss.”_ Mackie ends the call, already calling Chris's constituents for an update.

Chris's phone chirps with another text, and Chris clicks on it at the stoplight. Sebastian's contact photo with his rabbit blinks at him, and his chest tightens. _Chris I'm so fucking sorry, I just need to know you're okay._

Tears of frustration, shame, guilt well in his eyes. He can't imagine what he's gonna say to his family. “I’m okay. I’ll call you later,” he speech-to-texts back.

He pulls off at a rest stop, longing for a ball cap to hide his face from anyone who’s read any “Massachusetts Congressman’s Secret Gay Love Affair” and “C-SPAN Has Never Been More Interesting” articles lately. He swears a woman by the vending machine goes bug eyed when he walks out of the restroom but he keeps his head down, wondering if this is just the beginning of his battle against judgement from the public.

It’s his own damn fault for behaving like a lovesick, hormonal idiot in the goddamn House of Congress. And worst of all, Sebastian probably thinks he’s avoiding him. He’d only be half right. Chris doesn’t want Sebastian’s name and face dragged through the mud along with his.

“Did you tell Mom you were coming home or were you not through with the surprises?” Scott teases and swings the door wide open before Chris can get his key in.

“Not even through the front door, asshole,” Chris grumbles.

“Dude, you know I’m on your side. We all are,” Scott replies, sincere and comforting. “Was just trying to lighten the mood. You brought the rain clouds,” he says, literally and figuratively as the sidewalk speckles with raindrops.

The Evans family is always welcoming to their eldest son, so rarely finding himself in trouble. Lisa comes home and assures him that he could never shame or embarrass the family or community. Mackie trails in with Lizzie, Chris’s expert publicity team. He assumes they’re in a call with one of the daytime networks. They want him to make a formal public announcement, and agree it’s in his best interests to be upfront with his community. Expose his personal life more before any more dirty secrets can spill.

 “You’re only mistake was thinking the country would be accepting,” Lisa tells her son, his normally weighty appearance shrunken by his posture and the large pillows on the sofa.

His father hangs his head in his hands. Wondering what he could have done differently raising his son. “How can people expect to trust you after this?”

“They trust you!” Lisa interjects, and then turns to her husband. “They know he’s human. Bostonians aren’t guiltless individuals, by any means.” She gives him a pointed look which shuts him up.

“People are saying that I wouldn't have won the seat if they knew the _real_ me,” Chris says heavily.

“There is no reason why you should lose supporters,” Scott chimes in. “None. If anything this humanizes you!”

“I thought I was already humanized.”

“You know that I mean, dude. Sure, you probably could have, um, come out properly. Saved everyone the tabloid-esque articles. They're just trying to sensationalize you. This'll all blow over.”

Chris groans, standing abruptly. “Is that true? The public, my colleagues, everyone's gonna remember me as the guy who makes out with guys on federal government property. Some people even think I cheated on Em!”

“That's why you gotta get ahead of this, man,” says Mackie. “Press release. We're going to the Boston Herald tonight to film it. Lizzie is already working on your script.”

Chris shakes his head. “This is coming from me,” he says gravely.

They set the interview up with the local network. Chris decides to keep his release local because he needs to make amends to his city and to the people who trust him first and foremost. The rest of the country can catch on.

_“I know a lot of people have questions,”_ Chris starts. Sebastian turns the channel to Chris’s interview from a helpful tip via Chace. He missed the interviewer’s first question but he only cares what Chris has to say for himself, disregarding whatever the mass media might paint him as. _“I wanted to start off with a sincere and formal apology to those who entrusted me to represent them honestly and openly. I’m ashamed that I kept my personal life a secret and was extremely uncomfortable with labeling myself and my sexuality. I don’t know how I could have served the city and the country I love as a liar. It’s just not who I am.”_

Chris regards the audience with open sincerity. Sebastian rakes a hand through his hair, eyes never straying from Chris's digital ones.

Swallowing, Sebastian eagerly waits for Chris to drop his name, the nature of their relationship, anything. But that never comes. All Chris clarifies is that he's no longer in a relationship with Emily as of months ago, and that he's figuring out several things in his personal life.

It's probably best that Chris doesn't talk about him. The interviewer is mainly concerned with the implications of his sexuality and the work he's doing for his district. “ _Boston as a whole is pretty open minded,_ ” says the interviewer. “ _The same can't be said for the entire country, but our people have faith that their opinions won't be of issue. You're trustworthy, there's no doubt we can at the very least empathize with your sneaking around,”_ she says. “ _The media and the public are just fixated on you because you're handsome and young. And a total sweetheart. Look, he's blushing!”_

“ _Well, there won't be any more sneaking, that's for sure_ ,” chuckles Chris, smile bright in the professional studio lighting.

Sebastian texts Chris later that evening: _I saw you on tv._

_I hope I can see you soon,_ replies Chris immediately. Sebastian can't help but melt with relief.

_Of course Chris, let me know when and where._

About twenty minutes later, Chris replies with: _I see your lights on, can I come up?_

Sebastian rushes to the window, pushing back his curtain and smirking down at Chris's out of place BMW parallel parked against the Toyotas. _What are you waiting for?????_ he texts back.

When Chris meets Sebastian at his open door, he pushes him into his apartment and squeezes around his tight middle. “I didn't mean to freak you out or freak myself out. I just wanted to take care of the public aspects of my life before I could deal with the private one. The most important one,” Chris babbles. “And now I know I can do it. I wasn't sure before but now that everyone knows…” He brings his palm to Sebastian's jaw. “Maybe we can get serious.”

“You mean that? You really mean that?” Sebastian braces himself on Chris's slim hips.

“I do. But. Baby steps, with the public side. If that's okay?”

“I'm with you, Chris. Always will be.” Sebastian's unable to withhold his feelings. Baby steps. He can do that, if it means they can be together.

“I was thinking,” Chris says to the shell of Sebastian’s ear later that night in the confines of Sebastian’s bed, “we could start with dinner at my place with my family. I know you've already met them but this time it'll be different. Obviously.”

Content to be the little spoon, Sebastian threads his fingers with Chris's. They didn't have sex yet but the atmosphere is no less intimate. “I'd love that. And maybe if you have a weekend we can drive up to the city and visit my mom and stepdad, too? My mom will love you. She'll definitely think you're too old for me.”

“And I'll tell her age is just a number,” Chris giggles. “And that reporter from today called me young!”

“Mhm. Heard that part. Also heard the handsome part. You charm the pants off everyone you meet.”

Chris pulls Sebastian closer. “I just care about getting in this pair.”

“You're insufferable.” Sebastian swallows, turning over on his back to look into those blue, blue eyes. Leaning in, he places a kiss on Chris's lips. Chris pulls him over to straddle his hips, kneading the modest swell of Sebastian’s ass.

Sebastian pulls to Chris's corded neck, licking and nibbling at the faintly stubbled skin of his jaw. Then lower to his throat then clavicle, inciting low vibrations from within.

Eager to get his mouth on Chris, Sebastian tugs off Chris's slacks to reach that delicious hardening cock he's missed for days. Helpfully, Chris shucks off the garment and the Calvin Kleins underneath. “Can I use my finger again?” Sebastian asks eagerly. The last time Sebastian sucked him off had been the first time Chris had gotten his asshole fingered, which is a crime against humanity that it hadn’t happened sooner.

Chris nods, eyes widening in anticipation. “Go nuts,” he adds, and Sebastian grins. This dork.

He only used spit last time but this time he wants to do it properly, so he gets his nearly empty tube of lube and wets his index finger. And his middle finger to be safe.

Sebastian gets to work, mouth bulging around Chris's girth. He sinks up and back down, and after several small noises from Chris he brushes his fingertips against Chris's crack. One finger delves between his lightly haired cheeks to his hole. Sebastian’s throat flutters around Chris's cock as his lubed finger eases through, and Chris's thighs widen imperceptibly.

Another groan cuts through the wet noises of Sebastian’s bedroom. It's a higher octave than the last. Daring a second finger to join the first, Sebastian aims for Chris's prostate. He teases that spot again and again, relentlessly as Chris's thighs quake and his cock leaks onto his palate.

Sebastian moans at the pornographic image above, bobbing his head faster along with his milking fingers. Chris with his head back, throat bared, legs spread—their dynamic shifted but no less erotic.

“Fuck!” The first explicative of the night. Chris tugs on Sebastian's hair, jetting come deep into Sebastian's throat. Because he can, Sebastian tantalizes Chris's prostate several more times before pulling out.

“God, I'm so gay,” Chris laments, and Sebastian can't help but cackle.

“Plenty of bi dudes like their asses played with, Chris. And straight dudes too.”

“I can't even fathom moving from this bed this century.” Chris throws an arm over his eyes, looking ridiculous yet as sexy as ever with his crumpled dress shirt, socks, and wet cock.

Sebastian lazily brings a hand to his own erection.

“Why don’t you come on up here,” Chris murmurs.

“On up where?”

“My face. Come and sit on it.”

“Oh my god,” is all Sebastian manages, peeling out of his sweats. He carefully maneuvers to straddle Chris’s chest, easing himself over his mouth. Satisfied with his tireless crouch, he lowers himself to Chris’s waiting tongue. “ _Oh_ ,” he groans, reveling in the dexterous licks and laps of that tongue against his hole. He feels Chris spread his ass cheeks apart to allow more access.

Sebastian jerks himself off slowly, letting Chris’s leisurely pace dictate the rhythm. Chris laves his tongue over the perfect velvet sweet pucker, skating fingertips along Sebastian’s thighs. He pulls Sebastian downward to tongue the fragile skin of his sac.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he encourages Chris, tugging himself to the brink.

A tap from Chris causes Sebastian to squat even lower, and Chris seizes the underside of Sebastian’s cock. Chris drops his jaw, and Sebastian accepts the offer graciously. His thighs are gonna hate him tomorrow but that’s a whole day away. Chris’s fluttering throat and tantalizing tongue are his entire world tonight.

He moves to pull himself out before he comes but Chris objects, clawing Sebastian by his ass and imploring him to the edge. Sebastian goes over, bucking helplessly into Chris.

Chris, the trooper, only coughs once. He swallows every last drop, except for the spillage over his bottom lip. Tumbling to the side, Sebastian gasps into the pillow as the hot pressure evades him. “Mmm,” he mumbles. Chris rubs the small of his back, thumbing one of the two innocent dimples before back becomes ass. Sebastian’s last memory of the night consists of Chris’s freshly washed face pecking kisses on his neck and jaw, and the firm grip of an arm over his stomach.

 

 

\--

 

 

“ _The story develops as sources from outside the network reveal the complicated nature of Congressman Evans’ relationship with the now possibly identified young man,”_ Chace loses his mouthful of soggy cocoa puffs as he watches the featured video on TMZ, “ _graduate_ _student_ , _exotic dancer, and has-been adult film star Sebastian Stan. While the exact nature of their relationship is unclear, one thing remains certain—Congressman Evans has major skeletons next to him in that closet of his_.”

All Chace can do is snapchat Sebastian a black screen with the caption _dude don’t panic!!! Its gonna be okay!!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thanks for reading :)


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Chris has to leave early that morning to meet with his office so he's in Sebastian's kitchen making them eggs and turkey bacon. “You got any ketchup, babe?” He's happier than he's been in years, waking up in Seb’s little apartment, playing with his strangely calm rabbits, waiting for his lover/boyfriend to finish up the shower, and now cooking them breakfast with Sebastian's non-GMO ingredients.

A year ago if you told Chris he’d have been outed by the press and estranged by his peers and colleagues, he’d have thought this would be the end for him. Fortunately, present day Chris is content with the turn of events which lead him here, whipping eggs for Sebastian and him in this kitchenette. He’s out, has someone he cares for whom of which cares for him, he’s got his dream job, and is more comfortable with himself than he’s ever been.

He’s scooping out the freshly scrambled eggs into individual plates when he hears a violent clamor from the bedroom, and he rushes to see if Sebastian is hurt.

“What happened?” Chris implores, lifting Sebastian up from his crumpled heap on his bedroom floor. The lotions and hair products scatter the floor in the bathroom are completely ignored by Sebastian, whose attention is on his phone.

“Oh god, oh god!” Sebastian whimpers into the palms of his hands, letting the phone thud onto the carpet.

“Sebastian. Babe, what’s—”

“I can’t do this!”

“What happened?! Just talk to me.” Chris grapples Sebastian’s flailing arms in an attempt to calm him.

Sebastian shoves Chris away, fighting back tears. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I really was, but I wanted to know you wouldn’t judge me for it because I was young and stupid and desperate. Now everyone knows and all my friends and my _mom_ will know. Fuck!”

“Sebastian. Back up a second. What are you talking about?” Heart ricocheting inside his chest, Chris gently grabs one of Sebastian’s hands in his.

“I used to do porn, okay!”

“What—?”

“Gay porn. I did gay porn as soon as I turned eighteen. Made over a dozen videos and they’re all online. And someone found out who I am and that you’re with me. And then people know about the club. I don’t know how but now everybody is gonna think…” Sebastian sniffles away the rest of his confession, meeting Chris’s wary gaze.

Unhelpfully, Chris remains silent, riding the torrent of emotion ripping through him. He turns away, leaving Sebastian to read the tightness of his shoulders through one of Sebastian’s oversized shirts.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Chris, I really am.”

Chris distantly hears his cell buzzing from Sebastian’s bedside table. He doesn’t even want to deal with whoever’s on the other end of that call. “Why didn’t you?”

Sebastian whips a hand through his wet hair. “I was going to, I really was. I just wasn’t sure you’d be accepting so I wanted to wait until I knew you wouldn’t wanna leave me.” He sounds so vain and pathetic but that hardly matters. His aspirations of working in diplomacy and helping immigrants, people like his mother, have all gone to shit.

“I wouldn’t have judged you. But it would have been better for us both if you were up front about it.”

“Well damn, it’s not exactly a good icebreaker. ‘Hi, I’m Sebastian, retired porn actor. Wanna see how well I can breathe through my nose while I go down on you?’”

“Seb, that’s not what I mean. I mean if you told me that, we could have been more careful.”

“Well, I’ve gone years without people knowing. It’s not like this is my fault,” Sebastian mumbles, feeling disgusting and in want of another shower.

Sebastian waits for a response. Swallowing, Chris pads over to Sebastian’s table to swipe open his phone. His eyes skim the uncontrollable influx of concerned messages. One from Anthony—normally the pinnacle of optimism and clarity—reads _: What the hell, dude. Thought you wanted to come clean. I don’t know how much of this I can fix_.

Chris braces against the fear that trickles down his spine. “But if you told me we could have figured something out,” Chris replies, voice deceptively level.

“Like what? What else could we have possibly done?”

“This affects me too.” Chris says instead. His eggs and bacon remain unfried. “Don’t talk to anyone, please? I have to get going. You have to promise me that you won’t talk to anyone.”

“What the hell do you think I’m gonna do, go on the news and explain it all away? It doesn’t work like that. Some things can’t be erased.”

“I don’t have the luxury of just allowing people to think whatever they want of me,” Chris bites. “My actions have consequences that are greater than me, than us. I have to think about my family, about this city, about how this makes me look—”

Fresh tears blur Sebastian’s vision. “So I guess it doesn’t matter that everyone knows that the flaming _faggot_ did porn, huh?! As long as you can wipe your hands of this, it doesn’t matter that because of you millions of people know all about my disgusting past! Just another worthless fag getting what’s coming to him!”

“It’s not like no one watched it. Not like you kept it anonymous. What did you think was gonna happen?” Chris retorts idiotically.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Sebastian lets the tears fall. Heartstrings snapping in half all at once. “Some of us weren’t born with a goddamned silver spoon in our mouths. You know what, you don’t understand—you think this is about you and it isn’t. You’re just afraid to look bad next to me, and I’m the one whose life is getting picked apart and all you can do is worry about how it makes you _look_.”

Chris bows his head, defeated. The only sounds in the apartment are Chris shuffling to get his things and the soft click of one of Sebastian’s rabbits lapping from its water bottle. He spares Sebastian one last hopeless glance, wrought with regret.

He’s a zombie after that morning. The team elects he ignores the accusations about Sebastian and his relationship. He’d said his piece. Too many newscasts, radio shows, and articles from even the most trusted news sources paint him to be someone who either shares government secrets with male escorts, spends his free time with homeless gay youth, or the adulterer who’s had hookups with several men who are all keen to testify to their stories for their fifteen minutes of fame.

One thing those articles do have is common is that they drag Sebastian’s name through the mud. Most of what they say is false—but some is inevitably true. Referring to the pornographic videos that Chris shames himself into watching clips of. Clips of impossibly younger, doe eyed Sebastian getting fondled by three other guys twice his size. He's about to shut his Macbook and pour himself another glass of wine that he bought on the way to his apartment in DC, when his FaceTime chime notifies him he has a call waiting.

 _“There's no way that kid's a prostitute,”_ Scarlet says through the laptop's speakers, without a ‘hello’ and completely unprompted.

“What are you talking about?”

 _“Online. They can just publish these obviously libelous claims.”_ She chugs from what looks like to be a gigantic 7-Eleven slurpee. _“Not sure if you should be thanking me or blaming me for introducing you two!”_

“Oh please, you did not!”

_“I sure did. I’ll never forgive you for not telling me about your whole, guy love.”_

“Scarlet, I was gonna tell you. I was. Life got in the way.”

_“Honey, I understand, but you can't keep such a gigantic part of you secret. It was bound to blow up in your face.”_

“Don’t sugar coat it for us. Pretty sure it was more of a chain of explosions.”

“ _I'm serious. No telling how much damage was done to that boy of yours. Who, by the way, told me that you didn't know about his dancing? Or did I just spill another government secret?”_ Scarlet briefly stands to set down her slurpee, revealing her massively pregnant midsection.

“Now that's a long, complicated story.”

_“Who the hell could have even outed you guys?”_

“Shit, I don’t know.” It’s entirely possible someone followed him from his office or home to Sebastian’s apartment, and asked around about his personal life from his neighbors or friends. But that doesn’t make this Chris’s fault entirely. Right?

“ _Y’know, the first time I met him, he looked at you like a lost puppy. It was almost like, I knew it would happen, but it's one thing to fantasize, and another to watch you make out on my television?_ _Are you two serious?”_

“Like, are we gonna get married and have a dozen kids?”

“ _You know what I mean, idiot.”_

Chris swallows. “We haven't, really. Discussed it. We kind of argued. I said some things. Can't exactly take them back.”

“ _True, but nothing’s unforgivable. Especially if you're in love.”_

Scarlet gets a screen full of uncombed brown hair as Chris bows his head in remorse.

“ _You love him?”_

“That's not what we argued about,” Chris says instead, expert in the art of debate.

“ _Was it about the porn thing? Chris. It's just porn.”_

“It's not just porn. He never told me about it. He should have told me,” Chris mutters. Feeling more foolish than how he sounds, which is already pretty damn foolish.

_“Would it have made a difference on his side?”_

“Probably. I wouldn’t have let us get this close. It’s dangerous. Point proven.”

_“You're all beauty, no brains, apparently. Look, I gotta go. Just wanted to check in. By the way it’s obvious when you’re drunk.”_

“I’m not drunk,” he mumbles to a blank screen.

 

\--

 

Sebastian wears his shades inside the Starbucks he normally goes to before class, on the ridiculous notion that someone will recognize him as the political sex scandal he was always destined to be. Save from a few strange looks in his direction, which could be attributed to the sheen of sweat highlighting his brow, Sebastian manages to order his usual—an unsweetened iced coffee with soy milk. He’s trying to cut down on sugar and dairy.

He trudges towards the door, coffee in hand, when a whistle stops him in his tracks.

Sebastian freezes. It’s happening already. He’ll never leave his apartment again!

“Yo,” a voice says from behind him.

Sebastian turns slowly, painfully. Fear fizzles to confusion. It’s Mackie. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s your fault for being this predictable. Only took me one other Starbucks before this to run into you.”

“Why didn’t you just text me? What’s so important that you’re gonna make me late for class?”

“You never gave me your number. This was the only way I knew I could get in contact with you.” Mackie smirks, sipping a pint sized vanilla bean Frappuccino with entirely too much sass.

“I want you to know that Chris will never, ever blame you for any of this. It may appear like he does because he’s always been about saving face. Making himself as flawless as possible.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “He made himself pretty damn clear about what he wants. For me and for himself. I’m over it, anyway,” he lies.

Mackie raises his brow. “You know, nobody really cares about the fact you did adult films. And nobody really can find a credible source to the claims anyway, but by the look of that cold sweat, you sure think there has been.”

“I can’t talk about this right now!”

“Just sit down for a second. Hear me out.”

“No, _you_ hear me out.” He grabs the chair across Mackie. “‘No one cares?’ My entire existence will forever be the barely-legal gay porn star, for as long as I live, that’s what people will remember me by. Chris didn’t even care. He was just thinking about himself.” _He could never love me, or respect me, or think I’m his equal._

“That’s not true. Not if you let it. Not to sound cliché, but shit happens. You two can’t keep up this bad blood. It’s gonna destroy you, worse than Twitter ever could. Don’t blow this one.” Anthony tops off his frap. “I spend two hours finding you to tell you this, not because it’s my job to make Chris’s life easier, but it because you two are my friends, and believe it or not I do care. And he _most_ _definitely_ cares.”

Sebastian glares at his coffee, eyes avoiding Mackie at all costs. “Then why hasn’t he texted me?”

“Why haven’t you texted him?”

“Because I want space. I can’t just forget what he said. Even if he does change his heart. It still hurt.” And some guy across the way is smirking at him! He’s probably seen those stupid videos. For all Sebastian knows he watched them long before this bull, but Sebastian’s videos have never been super popular. He was nothing special online, and for the first time in a long time he wishes that he was once again anonymous. Maybe he should dye his hair. Would he look good as a redhead?

Sebastian ends up giving Mackie his cell number so he won’t have to waste time snooping around his campus.

“But it was too damn easy. One other Starbucks! One!” Mackie shouts after him.

 

\--

 

“There's been a lot of rumors going around about Congressman Evans and his male hookers,” booms House Speaker Downey through the microphone over the backdrop of red, white, and blue. Hundreds of older men and women grumble and throw Downey scandalized looks from their seats. Chris just sinks further into his leather chair, longing for the fire alarm to go off.

Unfortunately Downey continues his outspoken address to the House. “Or his gay orgies or whatever new exaggerated claim that’ll material out of thin air. But to set things straight—pardon my choice of words…”

 Reluctantly, Chris sits up. He can be professional.

“Is this junior high, people? A closeted politician is what gets everybody's goat these days? No wonder he tried so hard to hide it. And no wonder a supermajority of America thinks we’re a joke.” Downey pauses when one of the advisors whispers something in his ear. To whatever he says, Downey waves a dismissive hand right in the guy’s face. “Not like we got a room full of saints. That’s just statistically improbable. The most outlandish claims have absolutely zero substantiality! And come on, have any of you actually _seen_ his boy-toy? Drop dead gorgeous, let me tell you. Probably have the most conservative of you all week in your replaced knees.”

Several members chuckle, but Chris can feel the blood pressure rise from most of the older politicians.

“Congressman Evans is a damn good representative and has a lot to offer us and this beautiful country. He’s not some sad, gay outcast you can pressure into resigning. It makes even less sense that you all are more caught up on the hot, gay make out than the security breech! Let’s get back to business and stop embarrassing ourselves, for Christ’s sake. Where’s my gavel?”

Chris blinks away tears of mirth and mortification. Only Downey could get away with an opening like that. The rest of his session continues without incident, and he even gets the personal contact info from several of his neighboring representatives. He walks out at sunset with a small smile on his face, for the first time all week filled to the brim with hope.

He drops his rental’s keys onto the wall side table that came with the apartment, turning on his tablet to check his private email. Mackie has a list of news sites that would like more of his story, but for the most part there isn’t any indication that anyone wants him out of his seat _. You got lucky._

Without thinking, he texts Sebastian. _How are you doing?_

Sebastian’s doesn’t reply, but his iPhone helpfully lets him know Sebastian immediately read his text.

Chris calls him on instinct. Fortunately Sebastian answers on the second ring. _“Chris, this isn’t a good time.”_

“Babe… I called to apologize. I acted like a total dick and I really don’t want you to be mad at me. I was impulsive. And I didn’t consider how this all affects you.” Chris bites his lip, finger hovering over his car’s ignition.

There’s a pause, and a harsh clang. _“Can I please call you back later? — hold on,”_ he says something to someone in the background. “ _I want to talk about this, just when I have more clarity—”_ Sebastian’s weary voice is interrupted not by Chris, but by a distinctly male voice from Sebastian’s end saying what sounds like “we should really get going.”

Chris inhales sharply, the air in his chest ice-cold. “Oh. I’ll—I guess I’ll call you later then.” He feels lightheaded, furious at himself for ever pushing Sebastian away into someone else’s arms. He emotes something deep and pure and incredibly desperate and idiotic. Sebastian still hasn’t hung up. “I love you. Bye.” Chris throws his phone into the well of the passenger seat in a spastic flourish, and then turns his radio on the highest excusable volume, blasting Cher through the speakers.

Sebastian stares at his phone when the music doesn’t stop. He gets through about two verses of _Walking in Memphis_ before Chace squawks at him. “Sebastian. Let’s go.”

Blinking away stunned tears, Sebastian hangs the phone up. He stuffs it in his sweatpants pocket, along with his wallet and keys, and a baggie of straw for Perry to chew on in case he gets too anxious. Car travel already makes him pee uncontrollably so he asked Chace to sit with a towel and a plastic bag in his lap with Perry in case he wets himself.

Last night his heart wrenched with distress when he returned home from his evening class to Pumpkin’s incessant squealing. Perry had contracted some kind of illness during the time Sebastian was absent. His eyes and nose tacky with red, and sneezing like he’s never seen either of his bunnies sneeze. Sebastian immediately called Chace, who attempted to convince him that they can wait until morning, but Sebastian begged him to come over and help him to the vet.

“Sebastian. What’s taking so long?” Chace groans, irritated.

 _Oh nothing. Chris just told me he loves me and I think he’s playing me Cher._ “Alright. Let’s go. You got the bag?”

“I was ready, like, foreverago. Who called? Was it him? What’d he say?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

It’s grueling and terrifying to wait for the veterinarian’s office. They were lucky enough they could find a 24 hour one, but Sebastian would be lying if he said luck had any pull on his life lately.

The visit goes by smoothly, multiple thanks to their emotionally supportive vet. Times like this cause Sebastian’s faith in humanity to be restored. The doctor tells Sebastian to administer antibiotics to Perry’s infection, and if Pumpkin comes down with the same ailments, to bring him in for treatment.

When Sebastian asks if he should separate them, the doctor recommends they be together as they always have lived, because the companionship of the other will be the best medicine. That comment causes Sebastian to have an extensive introspective moment. Talk about real life reflections.

 

\--

 

Chris makes it to his family’s estate in one piece after a delayed flight. He attempts sleep to the sound of wind shaking the trees outside through a crack in his window, longing to bask in the cool summer night rather than severe air conditioning. Its natural warmth reminds him of Sebastian, the guy he gave his heart to and is probably off hanging out with one of his ‘friends with benefits,’ like he figured out Sebastian was doing yesterday.

Yesterday, the day Chris stupidly told Sebastian he loved him, without reason or control. Chris kept getting trapped in his head that he didn’t realize his phone died until he was already in bed, the bed he spent his teen years on. He’s probably the only congressman who still lives with his parents.

He slides out of bed. Barely registering the clock on the wall reads almost two in the morning, he pads down the hall to Scott’s room. He enters without knocking and lands stomach first over his brother’s legs.

“Scott.” How is his brother not awake? There’s literally another person sitting on top of him.

Chris puts his finger under Scott’s nose, checking to make sure he’s still alive. Unfortunately he senses his breath. Chris pinches Scott’s nose, and he spazzes and snorts in retaliation. “What the fuck?!”

“Ssh, you’ll wake up Mom.”

“Why are you sitting on me?”

“Because I need advice,” Chris pouts, flopping to the foot of the bed to relieve his brother’s legs of the pressure.

“Couldn’t you have waited until like, noon?”

“Please, for once in your life be useful.”

“Alright, alright. What is it? You want to know how to bottom?”

“What?! Shut up.”

“Then what?”

“I…told a twenty-something year old that I love him. On accident, though.”

Scott perks up, eager for the juicy two A.M. drama. “Oh fuck! Why did you do that?”

Chris shifts. “It felt right.”

“So was it on accident, like you didn’t mean it and want to take it back?”

“No, not really. We had a fight, and we haven’t spoken to each other in over a week. And then when we did speak I heard him on the other end of the phone talking to another guy. I panicked. ”

Chris will admit it to himself. He really does love Sebastian. He only wishes he could have a second chance to prove it to him.

“Honestly? Go for it, man. You'll hate yourself forever if you don’t.”

 

\--

 

Sebastian warms up for his first show since his little scandal, determined to not let down what few fans he has. He dresses up in a red and black corset, slimming his waist and widening his hips. His fake breasts threaten to spill over the sequined, lacy trim. Completing his look with his matching panties and waist garters, Sebastian swallows his nerves, flashing back to simpler times when dancing was just dancing, not a stunt to prove something to himself. Not a ploy to get his crush to notice him. He reminisces on his first routine, a clumsy Madonna spiel, all passion and the grace of youth and artistic expression.

When Sebastian peeks onstage, he's bombarded with a rowdy crowd, some of whom are his friends from school. Including Chace, who grins at him madly, cheers, waves, then gets all their friends to cheer and wave and raise their drinks. Sebastian laughs, feeling lighter.

His heart lurches when he catches himself looking for Chris among the crowd. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did.

After the dance, one filled with laughter of his own, positive energy from his friends, and several crowd selfies, Sabrina curtsies through her thunderous applause. Instead of taking her detour backstage, Sebastian hops off to the main lobby to hang with his friends. Ronnie passes him two shots and he throws one back enthusiastically. Chace throws his arm around Sebastian’s waist and snatches the other for himself.

“Heya, stranger!” Ronnie shouts not to Sebastian, but to someone she sees behind him. Sebastian spins, and Chace untangles himself from Sebastian, now eye to eye with a lightly stubbled Chris. His chest is bound under a snug grey tee.

Even the residual animosity from earlier that week can’t keep a smile off his face. Chris’s is less enthusiastic, molded by an underlying sullenness.

“Want anything, hon?” Ronnie breaks the silence. She’s well aware of their relationship now, but Sebastian’s grateful she holds onto her professionalism.

“Oh, no, but thank you.” Chris’s gaze never leaves Sebastian’s.

Ronnie floats off with Sebastian’s and Chace’s empty glasses.

“Pleasure to meet you, Senator!” shouts Chace drunkenly. “He’s way hotter in person,” he adds to no one in particular.

Sebastian gently guides Chace to one of the side sofas. “I’ll see you later.”

“How am I g’nna get home?”

“Uber?” Sebastian tugs Chace’s phone out of his back pocket to help. “Or tag along with one of the guys.”

“You got it, hot stuff.” Chace punctuates himself by petting Sebastian’s face through his wig.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian whips his head around to Chris. Only to find that he’s vanished. Ronnie so helpfully thumbs to the direction of the door, to his disappointment.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, huh?” Sebastian shouts to Chris’s retreating form. The moonlight cascading down from the clear Boston sky tantalizes the sequins on his bust and hips.

Chris bows his head. He turns around but doesn’t make any move to walk closer, standing in the road like he’s waiting for a bus—or to get hit by one. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s go back inside. I’m sure we can use one of the rooms.”

Unable to stop himself, Chris raises his brow.

“To _talk_ , Chris!”

“Oh, well in that case—”

“Come back in, you pervert,” Sebastian smirks.

Thankfully, Chris follows him back in the club. No one pays them any concern—all of them too wrapped up in one another. That, or they think he and Chris are about to do each other backstage and want to give them their distance.

“This room should be empty. But you never know during nights like these.” Sebastian’s heels clack in the dimly lit room—graciously void of hookups.

Sebastian locks the door behind them, and Chris snorts. “Just talking, right?”

“Shut up, unless you want Chace to sneak back here and ogle your man tits some more.”

“I’m not the one he was ogling, that’s for sure,” Chris attempts to joke, but it comes out spiteful.

Stiffening, Sebastian scratches at his fishnets. “Where’d that come from?”

“It’s fine. It is. It’s just really obvious.” Sebastian doesn’t miss the bob of Chris’s throat.

“I really don’t even know—I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t… _sleep_ _around_ with my friends. I know it’s hard to believe that I can’t help but wet my dick every two seconds—”

“Seb, that’s not what I meant! That’s not how I see you,” Chris interrupts in desperation. “It’s just the other night on the phone, and then tonight...”

Sebastian sighs, leaning against the door. “What other night?”

“When I called you and you were going out with some guy. Wasn’t it him?”

Throwing his head back, Sebastian cackles. Chris’s face pinches with concern. “Chris! We were going to the vet!”

“The what?”

“The veterinarian! One of my rabbits came down with the snuffles. That’s what you were freaking out about?”

“Um,” Chris is at a loss. “I mean, he was pretty handsy.”

“He’s always handsy when he’s drunk. I wanted to have a serious talk. Can we forget about Chace’s dumb ass?”

“Oh-kay,” Chris mumbles, feeling idiotic. And somehow relieved he freaked over nothing. But there’s still that unwarranted and unprompted love confession looming over his head. And the fact that he’s guilty of lashing out about Sebastian’s past.

“So why did you come here tonight?”

Chris leans against the door alongside Sebastian. “I wanted to apologize for those absolutely idiotic things I said to you. I shouldn’t have been so selfish and disgusting, because you deserve so much better. Then the worst part—or the best part—I had one of those realizations. You know the ones where you realize how you feel _after_ you’ve already blown it.”

His eyes are trained forward, but Sebastian’s are owlish, absorbing every micro expression in Chris’s profile.

“I know for a fact that that publicity nightmare could never, ever have been your fault. And I’m not even sure it really could have been avoided. I’m just sorry I ever made you feel guilty about who you are or where you come from—because I would never change a single goddamned thing about you.” Chris looks right at him, and then swoops in for a hands on hips, chest to chest kiss. Pulling back a fraction to get out one final declaration, laying his heart bare. “Because I’ve fallen for you. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Ever the tactician, Chris shuts Sebastian up with another kiss. Promptly separating them with another soft pop. “And I know I definitely said that before but I wanted to say it again because I want you to know that I mean it.”

Sebastian smiles bright like daylight. He wraps his arms around Chris’s back and holds him close, unbridled so the boning in his corset digs uncomfortably into their chests.

“Oh, Chris,” Sebastian mutters, unable to describe the elation blossoming from within his heart. “I’m sorry for taking this all out on you—I shouldn’t have been so secretive. I was just afraid.”

“I know you were. You had every right to be. I know you didn’t ask to be brought into the spotlight like this, but that’s my life and that’s always gonna be my life.”

“Well I don’t care. Like I told you before, I’m with you.” Sebastian swipes his wig hair away from his face. “And I love you. Right back.”

Chris squeezes him tight. “I know this sounds crazy, believe me I know but I don’t want anything like this to ever happen again. And if the best way to ensure that you never get hurt again is to resign, then so be it.”

“Chris! Don’t you ever say that again! Nothing good will come from that. Let’s start with dinner with your family?”

“My dad might not be too excited, but he’ll come around. And then a road trip to see yours?”

“That sounds awesome. They’ll be in town for graduation though. Which by the way, I hope the offer still stands. About joining you in your place in Washington?” Sebastian’s so full of hope.

“You bet, Seb.” Wrenching Sebastian by his hips, Chris delves in for more heated and impassioned kisses. Sebastian moans, locking his netted leg around Chris’s thigh. Chris pushes him against the door for more leverage. “Please tell me there’s a way I can fuck you right now,” he whimpers into Sebastian’s ear.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sebastian grins. “There’s a basket over there with lube but no condoms. Don’t look at me like that! It’s for the patrons to take care of themselves so they don’t have to walk out with gigantic boners! Jesus, Chris.”

Chris snatches a little packet. Then another to be safe. He turns Sebastian so that his chest is against the door and Sebastian backs his ass into him helpfully.

Instead of the fast, raw fucking he expects—love confession or not, he’s still human—Chris reaches up with his clean hand for Sebastian’s wig. “Help me with this. I don’t want to damage it.”

Trembling with need, Sebastian unpins his auburn wig, letting it and his cap flop onto the sofa a few feet away. His breasts and corset are next and Chris slips it off of him, careful not to mess them in any way. Same goes for the panties and fishnets, but those end up around Sebastian’s ankles, his heels keeping them from touching the floor.

Chris tugs his own jeans to his knees having gone commando that day, and slicks Sebastian and himself up. “You sure you don’t mind the no-condom?”

“How’s your pull out game? Not like you have anything, right?”

“God, no!”

“Then I’m ready when you are—fuck!” Sebastian moans, biting his lip in punishment. He can’t believe Chris is bottoming out in his place of work, one thin door away from a rowdy crowd. He shivers when a talkative guy brushes past the door and braces his hands against its frame, letting Chris pound into him.

“Oh, fuck me,” Sebastian whimpers, scraping his forehead on the door, letting Chris ravage him deeply, hastily.

Chris hears another bustle and a collective cheer from outside. He slams Sebastian harder than he ever has before, slowing down to reach around and jerk him off. Sebastian pushes backward, meeting everything Chris is giving to him.

Gasping, Sebastian comes into Chris’s hand, limply taking Chris’s thrusts. Chris stiffens and comes deep enough Sebastian’s worried the force of it might knock something loose. “ _Fuck_ ,” Chris punctuates.

“Mmh, what happened to pulling out? Don’t you know I’m not on the pill?”

“Oh shit, were you serious?”

“Hopefully I can keep it all in on my way to the bathroom,” Sebastian giggles, both of them still panting.

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll make a bottom out of you—then you’ll realize. All the best tops have to bottom once in a while.”

Chris kisses his neck, palming his ass then he pulls out, still careful not to make a mess. “I need all the help I can get.”

“Shut up, you know you always fuck me silly.”

“’Fuck you silly?’” Chris smirks, helping tug Sebastian’s tights and panties up.

“Shut up! I’m post orgasmic. You can’t tease me until the end of my refractory period.”

“Bottoming, lesson one?”

“Yes,” Sebastian giggles again, and then sobers, face to face with his lover—his _lover_. He rakes his polished acrylic nails through Chris’s hair. “You know I really, really, truly love you.”

“I know. And there’s nothing that could ever change that. Our sex tape could leak and I wouldn’t care!”

“Let’s not go crazy,” Sebastian admonishes.

“Ready for the walk of shame?” Chris asks when Sebastian finishes putting his costume back on.

“Anytime.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! It was so fun reading and replying to everyone's feedback. Hope you liked the ending :) #Evanstan5ever

**Author's Note:**

> playlist for the songs Sabrina performs throughout the fic [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vjPBrBU-TM&list=PLby-xWh_6lscYEfE7uLw1mN_YkwVFJrxC)


End file.
